ELYSIUM

‘We’d better make a move, it’s getting late’, my teacher said. We were standing at a temple in a state of dilapidation, in an square plot of land outgrown with a rampant growth of green blades of grass and thorny shrubs, in full view of the grove where we had left our all-terrain vehicle, separated from it by a dusty track, which ran a little down the road and zigzagged to an unknown destination. We started strolling and made our way through the village, with its succulent placidity percolated, as it were, to the deepest layers of the soil. We had hardly walked for a quarter of an hour when there was a voice coming from behind calling ‘Rocky’. We turned around and discovered a dog following us; it must have spotted me packing the box of confectionery in the rucksack that I was now carrying slung over my shoulder. Two youths, who might have been working somewhere around, came running there. ‘Where would you go?’ one of them asked me in broken English while the other, looking befuddled to see us walking there, looked us in the eye. Realizing not much of what my teacher might have articulated out of his sagacity could be appreciated by these simple village youths, who appeared to live on agriculture, I told them as for our whereabouts and what we were there for. They shone with pleasure as they knew we had been there to have a look around the place and would like them to come along. ‘Yes’ they nodded, and we made friends with them. An identity of interests, which took us beyond all sectarian and geographical limitations, culminated in a period of pleasure walking through the delicate perfume pervasive in the countryside. ‘There, our cottages across the field’ Emon pointed to some cottages at the hills appearing on the horizon. There was a stream that flowed surreptitious with an aquatic murmur through the rich growth of vegetation on either of its banks; we ambled down to a slope and had refreshments. ‘God’s manifestation is in the sights and sounds of Nature’ my teacher drew my attention to a minstrel mesmerizing the morning with a folk song en route to the next village across a corn field. Over the next several hours I saw PEACE flapping in ecstasy over a vernal line of deodars to a distant pine decked out with its luxuriant foliage; meditating with spiritual solemnity at the hermitage in the profundity of a forest against the blue felicity of serene sky above; buzzing about the vivacious splendour of a rose in red, concealed behind the sporadic rustles of its leaves; lowing in a fertile grazing inseminated under the golden semblance of the irradiating sun; expanding in successive ripples under confused segments of tremulous hyacinths, which dispersed in tune with the floral celebration of redolent wind up and down a mysterious row of lavenders in full bloom; striding with an intrinsic curiosity to school round a thatched shop, frequented by neighbours meeting in the evening to hear one another ancillary to their common need for grocery; chirping in rhapsody over summer charms within the hearing of a farmer on a bullock cart down a dusty lane from the nearby farm, after a prolific harvest. Time passed but we didn’t know how. Emon and his companion would be attending the Namaz prayer in the evening and, of course, we had a long way to drive back. At quarter to five when they were escorting us out of the village, Emon asked us to stay the night at their house. I could have gladly accepted their proposal; but my teacher was leaving for Singapore the next afternoon. We got on the car and before we left he handed them a few notes, which they declined, but in the end they gave in as he sounded uncompromising and promised them another visit there.

HOURS BEFORE THE SUNSET

By the time we drove back the usual rush-hour traffic had thinned out. We relished the food they served us warm as we were ravenous. ‘Has Peace retired to the easy tranquillity pervading the country life in preference to the urban sophistication?’ I asked. There was a long pause before he answered. ‘The peace of God is with them whose mind and soul are in harmony;’ my teacher explained, ‘the realization of Atman or soul is of highest significance which is to be followed consecutively by activities of the intellect, the mind, the senses, and the body. God is omnipotent and His special favour is with those who pass through periods of pleasure and pains, coming alternately arranged, with complacency. The very object of nature’s existence for spiritual ministration is forgotten by us in pursuance of lust, anger and greed has been in practice for quite a long time, leading us away from peace, which consists in the renunciation of all desires. This world is not an eternal abode of man and the exclusive possession of every single individual to do their share of unattached work should be infallibly taken into consideration unmindful of the results.’ Every single word he said put colour in the figures drawn on the clear canvas of silence by one or two swishes of cars, which ran at irregular intervals in the streets below. The last sentences he muttered sounded indistinct, as he felt drowsy. It was obvious our hiking that day had begun to tell on him. The long drawn sentence ‘It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection’, however, made an indelible impression on me. His numinous interpretation of some of the complex ideas in scriptures had the soothing effect of the first shower on a religious plain, being scorched under the glares of ignorance, with its verdant expanse of devotion burnt down to a yellowish brown lifelessness of unscrupulous ceremonious rituals, leaving the soil to be strewn with vices fallen from all the withered twigs and branches of honesty. It was after two, with my teacher snorting in the next room, I lay with my eyes open. I walked over to the balcony and peered down onto the resplendent avenue. The panorama of the city in solitude interspersed with patches of golden light from the street lamps, shining around like glow-worms, looked enchanting. It was during this obsession that my eyes caught sight of Her as she came out creeping along the deserted walkway, went up to the turn, and around it out of sight.