Seeking Silence

"When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence." -Ansel Adams

There is an utter melancholic feeling that engrosses my mind when I am standing at a railway station, amidst the chaotic atmosphere the place resonates with, I try to discover a sense of silence, a split second of peace, extracted through the disarray, and the only way to meet that simple yet complicated moment is to simply see the surroundings, go through the nostalgia of thoughts running in my mind, and cross the plethora of images spawning in my head, and seek silence.

There isn’t any specific rationale behind my search for silence and peace, silence is beautiful, and in the middle of this chaos, which I surround myself with, it seemed more seductive. 

The scene at regular small town railway stations are not quite parallel to one’s I grew up imagining through Ruskin Bond’s short stories, perhaps set in a much diverse time, where one doesn’t need to put an effort to get a moment of silence. The demon shaped engine with the thunderous honking sound expressing a strong sense of rage and ordering people to move on and get inside the train, I think of it as a metaphor, commanding people to move on in life too through a new journey. 

The tea vendor’s, selling the worst tea that you’re ever going to taste, oil smudged snacks being catered around every corner, B-grade magazine with a picture of girl displaying her cleavage to grab men's attention, which are desperate for something to cling on before embarking on their journey. A reek of phenol suddenly scatters on the platform, indicative of the fact that railway cleaning staff has come on time for their duties. Railway stations have gone a drastic change with times, there aren’t any coin operated weighing checking machines around anymore, where one simply inserted a one rupee coin and stood straight for few seconds and got a small yet reasonably thick brown color chit showing their weight in bold black color, the upper part of the machine had a round display with a colored wheel inside it. Upon placing the coin into the machine, the wheel rotated for few seconds, creating a dramatic scenario, and moment later, the chit used to emerge from the machine with the person’s weight printed on it. The wheel even had small bulbs glowing with bright colors that made the weight checking process more fascinating for me. I recall many instances where i used to excitedly go and check my weight and always came back furiously, tearing the chit and started questioning the machine for its lack of authenticity.

Another interesting feature of railway station was fortune-teller machine, based on the same template as the coin weighing machine but in place of a person’s weight, the machine spat the thick small brown color chit with day’s fortune printed on it. It was a clever way of indulging a person’s attention into the rubbish printed on the chit as they embark on their journey. 

There is certain yet an unknown distinctive ambiance of a railway station, and that uniqueness is created by the thousands of people communicating through the railway, hundreds of people sleeping inside the waiting rooms, on the platforms, queuing up at four in the morning to get their tickets, several groups of people rushing towards the general compartment to fit in their body for the journey. Everyone has their own story, some share, some prefer to stay quiet, people get acquainted with strangers, hear their stories, share stories of themselves, talk about politics and more. By the time, journey ends, a bond is formed, which I would like to term as a ‘Railway Bond’. 

The moment of silence knocks the door of my mind, when a train leaves the platform, the crowd scatters away from the platform, the vendors go back to their bases, and waits for the next train to arrive, I see a pattern, and in that pattern, there is a consistent gap existing between the arrivals of different trains on the platform. This is the point where the silence seduces my mind into its shell.

Silence is therapeutic, it is omnipresent yet difficult to identify. It gives a sense of freedom to the mind to unravel the chain of complicated thoughts; it is constructive in nature, lending all the necessary tools to erect a clear picture in your mind.

 

Photo by Lukasz Saczek on Unsplash

I travel around with the shell of silence and let the voice around it subdue the noise made in my mind. 

Death: The Undefined Space

"Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace."- Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost

It is another insomniac night, and sleep has been a distant dream, the moment I try to close my eyes, I have this sudden burst of anxiety (In whatever chemical form it is found in our body) rush through my veins. The group of butterflies in my stomach elevates my anxiety to its peak level. I feel like a student sitting in an examination hall about to give the most vital exam of his career. I think about random topics to ponder over in order to occupy my mind, because that is the most appropriate pastime for an insomniac, TO THINK.

Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash 

I randomly browse through various topics in my mind, that I wanted to think about, but I could not stick to a particular one, like my insecurities, my anxiety, my fears, my ambitions. I opened Twitter, just to divert my mind, I scroll through my timeline, desperate in search of something that stays with me through this silence, which have become my companion. A national award-winning lyricist and writer, I follow had tweeted few hours back 'Dying in sleep would be such a calm and hassle-free way to leave this world and end your journey', I immediately knew, that this is the topic I am going to ponder over and put my thinking neurons on work.

As Dr Sheldon Copper suggest, that during such period of analysis, we must put on our thinking cap, so I do the same, and ponder over DEATH.

Death is inevitable; we all are going to die; the mediums might differ but result would be same. Heart will not pump the blood; oxygen supply to the brain would stop. Whenever someone in a Punjabi family die, people communicate the news to each other by saying “O Poora Hogaye” literally meaning the person is complete. I recall an instance asking my grandmother what this sentence means, she responded with an elaborate explanation that how Sikh consider life as a cycle, starting point being their birth, and ending point being their death. She further went to explain me how death is an impartial phenomenon. It does not discriminate humans on their religion, gender, age, social status.

I recalled another memory, which made me a bit uncomfortable, I tried to re-frame the entire scenario in my mind, my grandfather came to his room, sat on his moving chair, asked a glass of water, closed his eyes and within moments he left us. In a chaotic world, dying in silence and peace would be such a pertinent path to complete our journey.  Mike Ehrmantraut, one of the coolest characters in Breaking Bad, ignores Walt’s apology and tells him and to shut the fuck up and let him die in peace. It is one of the subtlest sequences of a person accepting his death and trying to find solace in it. 

Mike Ehrmantraut finding Peace in Death

Mike Ehrmantraut finding Peace in Death

I try to analyze death,

Is it a sensation leading to permanent desensitization?

Is it a form of sharp sound waves that arrives with a crescendo of music piercing our eardrums? 

Does it seem as an angel calmly whispering in our ears that we are going to a better place?

Or does it appear as a devil disguised as an angle trying to con us in the lure of a better place? 

Is it the transporter that takes our soul into the field, which is beyond the idea of wrongdoing and rightdoing that Rumi, has talked about?

Death, on many instances does not seem as easy and peaceful; it often is brutal, heartbreaking affecting not only a single person for whom it is meant for at the first place, but also to everyone related to that person. It build’s organically into your mind, taking your body and mind through the path of loneliness, pain and slowly leaving your body and mind to wonder around in an undefined space.

I try to create a fictionalized scenario on death (if that’s an fitting way to present it), if a person is on the verge of death through any means, be it a pathological condition, or a psychiatric condition or simply through an aging cause, slowly their organs would stop functioning properly leaving the subject under extreme physical disturbance, and emotional distress for their loved ones, few lucky one’s would be able to bid good-bye to their loved ones, other’s won’t be able to say a proper goodbye to their loved ones. The moment body stops responding and physiological function stops, the soul leaves the body taking along with itself a jar consisting of thousands of emotions, be it guilt, heartbreak, happy memories, rejections, moments of utter loneliness, moments of pleasure. The soul enters the undefined space, wandering around and seeking another medium to encompass all the emotions with it.

Does the undefined space act as the divider between Heaven and Hell?

Does the undefined space form a minuscule portion of the gigantic universe, where the soul rambles around?

Does the undefined space keep the soul, and later prepares it to be transmitted into another body (acting as a medium), by loosely forming the basis of consciousness through the jar of emotions the soul has kept?   

Another thought hit my mind, what happens when a person dies a premature death, does the scenario post death remains same?  Does their soul wonder around the undefined space seeking out an appropriate medium to transfer the large chunk of emotions?  Another scenario is that the point of soul-searching for another medium might come from the fact that my subconscious level makes me want to believe on the perspective of reincarnation. May be the undefined space acts as cloud storage for the emotions when a person dies leaving the soul wandering around the universe. It is an indication that once our journey ends, there is no alternative route to start the same journey, the road end there.

The advances made in the Quantum theory has led to development of many novel theories that try to put different perspectives on death, life after death with respect to consciousness, time, space and the universe. I try not to go deeper into quantum aspects of death, instead I try to focus on my fictionalized scenario and stick to it, and indirectly telling myself that I had an eventful insomniac night analyzing death.

I try to rewind the entire self-mediated thoughts on death, and get answer to several odd questions from myself, the nature of death (Not suicidal, but in widespread reason), the self-created undefined space, which even I am not sure how to characterize it, the soul containing a jar of emotions, the basis of reformation of consciousness to lend the soul into another medium. 

I go outside my small room, and walk into the verandah, it’s about to dawn, and I am far away from understanding death,

Do I really need to? I ask myself, probably no, and that reassured stimulated ‘NO’ comes subconsciously from the fact that we have to accept it under any circumstances.

I take off my thinking cap, look at the sunrise, and still seek out sleep.

A Flight of Love

“And when all the wars are over, a butterfly will still be beautiful.” -Ruskin Bond, Scenes from a Writer's Life

The field was lush green covered with the dark clouds, it seemed as if the sky had been invaded by the demons of the rains, and at any point you could feel that they will leave a thunderous roar, droplets of rain at any point were awaiting to kiss the flowers in the field, the green field was scattered with silence, the flowers awaited the presence of their regular friends whose presence spills magic on the entire field.

Photo by Karina Vorozheeva on Unsplash

Tika, the most beautiful butterfly in the entire universe awaited the presence of Mikhail, her companion, her soul. Tika came flying in the field, touching her favorite flowers. The presence Of Tika sparked the happiness in the lonely flowers of the field. 

Flowers blossomed with merely the presence of Tika, the demons in the cloud went away  and made way for the Rays of Sun, to come and greet the most astonishing butterfly in the world. Tika traveled through the entire field, and awaited Mikhail to come.....

Each flower in the field, tempted to appear attractive, so that Tika would come and grace them with her presence, but Tika kept flying without even bothering about any flower and kept searching for Mikhail. She was restless, and kept flying and kept looking for Mikhail, but he was nowhere to be found.

She remembered the moments when both of them used to meet and fly as high as their wings allowed them to be, she remembered how jealous those flowers became seeing their closeness.

Tika's wait finally came to a pleasant end when she saw Mikhail flying from distance, she sighed and wanted to capture that moment forever in her heart. Mikhail and Tika united, which seemed like after an infinity, the flowers blossomed despite their jealousy, they could not resist the love both of them had for each other, carelessly flying into the sky.

The passion with which both of them fondled each other's wings could put a couple dancing under the Eiffel Tower to the tune of saxophone under shame. The flowers of the field despite their jealousy to see their love had developed a routine to see them unite again and again, as their love was the only thing that brought the light of hope into the field.

'How far will we fly?' asked Mikhail.

'Till the point we reach the end of the sky' replied Tika.

'The universe is way too big for us' said Mikhail

'Its way too small for the love we have for each other in our hearts' replied Tika.

They kept on flying and exploring various fields, and many countless flowers where they inhaled each other's fragrances.

Tika was in search of something, which Mikhail sensed.

'What are looking for'? Asked Mikhail.

'The most beautiful flower in the universe' said Tika.

'For what'? Asked Mikhail.

'To be in your presence, to be in comfort under your wings' said Tika.

After some long search they found a yellow colored Busan flower, who awaited lots of guest under its buds, but won't let any creature flourish under his intoxicating presence, as Busan wanted to host the most beautiful butterflies in the world, and after looking at Tika and Mikhail, he sighed and told them

'Welcome my little friend's, I waited your presence since eternity'

Mikhail and Tika were more than happy to be under the presence of such a heaven like flower. They came and sat on the bud of Busan, intoxicated under his presence, under each other's wings. 

Tika and Mikhail knew that the point had come, where there souls would unite, they emotions would unite, the ocean of feelings they have for each other would be mixed under the pure extract of their love. Tika sensed that the time had come where she releases the fragrance of love, a smell that would take Mikhail to the seventh cloud.

Mikhail patiently wait to inhale that smell, where they both will follow to the path of heaven guided by gods of love.

Amidst the ecstasy that both Of them shared, they ignored the nature around them, the surroundings where they were welcomed so warmly by the yellow Busan, which had turned purple in color.

As Tika and Mikhail came closer, Busan changed his appearance, it's as if he was changing in accordance to their mood, he was like the orchestra player under the instruction of his head curator.

The shining sun had eloped, the demons reappeared, Busan had become darker, whereas Tika and Mikhail did not care about the surroundings.

Busan waited for the butterflies to be lost under the pleasure of their love, the moment he anxiously waited for was there in front of him.

Tika and Mikhail never woke up again.

Busan, instead of caring for the butterflies had turned into a poisonous host, who survived from the fragrance extracted from the bodies of dead butterflies.

As Busan extracted Tika's and Mikhail's fragrance, their souls left their body and somewhere in the other side of the universe, Tika and Mikhail reunited and kept flying.....

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