The Boringbug

“Swami Vivekananda sat here and meditated!” these words echoed inside me as I made myself comfortable in this 1800-years-old temple of Kasar Devi. Hitchhiking across Almora, little did I realise the magnitude of this spot, which stood 2116 meters above sea level in the mountains of Uttarakhand.

It was amidst the rain, when I took my sketch book and hiked 100 feet above Kasar Devi. Sitting outside a millennia old shiv temple, overlooking this magnanimous village while clouds thundered at a distance indicating an upcoming storm. There was a sense of serenity and peace which felt amiss in the cities.

I penned ink to the paper, the first scribble is the hardest. What was I aiming to sketch, the trees, the mountains or the temple that stood above it all? The wind swooshed by, as monkeys and birds circled around upon seeing this novel act, observing every movement cautiously. A monkey with her baby clinging to her made herself comfortable beside me involuntarily making me a part of them.  In a place like this we were one with the nature.

There was peace! The hours passed by, one, two, three…!

“MAHADEV!” a voice echoed in this otherwise empty valley, waking everyone up, the birds, the wildlife and this tribe of monkeys which had accepted me as one of their own by now. All eyes turned around towards a man who had tears shimmering down his eyes and was breathing heavily. “Save me Mahadev! For I have lost it all in search of you!” the voice echoed while he bowed down and laid on the floor in front of the shivling. An old lady with a somber look helped him up, wiping away his tears with her pallav, it was his mother. I looked at them intrigued, wondering what brought him here, his undying belief or the instilled faith. It might surprise you that I am not a believer per se, and not one to be swayed away by the religious fortitude.

“Please show me the way! Do not abandon me!” the man bellowed, meanwhile my pen scribbled furiously while the thoughts ran amok. Is it his faith or blind belief towards the existence of something? Will he actually find his way, in life and in spirituality? These are complicated questions which are seldom answered but left to personal discovery. I decided to sit and observe further, meanwhile the mother wiped that man’s tears away. Motherly love, I say.

Unbeknownst, there was another soul observing everything in silence. Clad in saffron, he carried a calm demeanor, an aura of ease and constant smile. He walked across and held his hand over the man’s head. Blessings? I informed myself, or was it care? Whichever it was but it had its effect. The man sobered down, his anxiousness disappeared and he stood up. Tall and broad, with the tears drying up. There was instant silence, the monkeys and birds looked confused.

The saffron clad person moved ahead, no he wasn’t a priest, for he didn’t work there but his wise presence and sincerity travelled with him. His walk showed no hesitation, no disturbance, as he stepped towards the edge of the cliff which donned a boulder overlooking valley of a thousand feet. Rarely have humans braved a mountain or turned their back towards it, that too on the edge of a cliff where one misstep might lead you to the arms of death. Yet, this man stood over the edge, his back towards the death and sat down in the yogic pose to meditate, leaving people in awe and others in shock. A mountain cliff where feet would tremble in fear remained this man conquering all.

I was left amused. Maybe there was something spiritual about this place, maybe faith did exist, but I brushed the thoughts aside. To each their own, some find their way and some don’t. This is how vicious life is, for it is the cycle of nature, it “giveth and taketh”. By now the sketch looked complete, I dabbed the pen when a voice echoed in my head:

“But you found your way here, didn’t you?”

Perplexed, I shot a glance across towards the saffron clad man, and saw him smile; meanwhile a board hidden somewhere in the bushes reminded “Swami Vivekananda sat here”, for a reason.

Yes, I felt at peace.

***

(c)boringbug

The above article was first published in the Atom Magazine.