She Speaks at Midnight

3 min read

 

The dead of the night; the black locks of Ratri, engulfed the minds of mortals — sacrificed the sleeping humanity on the alters of Nidra. The night spared me again. And I had but one thing to do.

She came in the dead of the night to watch me cry. She came to sit by my side. She did not give me a shoulder to cry on. But she put forth questions to intensify the chaos. She was Wisdom: she narrated to me.

When Earth was nothing but an ant-hill, a light shone down from the heavens. And a man, a God you may call him, set forth to liberate his kind with selfless love. There arose the Garbha Griha — a temple and a sanctorum for the world. The Sanctum Sanctorum of the Sanctum Sanctorum it was named. The word of Love was spread with a meaning far more sublime and great. This sublime fragrance of the flower blossomed and spread love in all its glory. And the destiny to unify with this fragrance was revealed, the flower was merely an instrument for attraction and hundreds of people gathered to witness the flower. The fragrance was what was divine.

The flower merged with the elements and the bees went mad. The hand which rocked the cradle was gone, but the cradle never stopped its rhythm. The rhythm never stopped but the eyes searched for the hand. Oh, the madmen, like the bees maddened, searched for the flower. They searched for the fragrance with their eyes. The madmen became confused and could not fill their nostrils with the fragrance that had never vanished. Those who looked for the well in the eternal sea drowned with thirst and those who bartered love for sacrifice drowned with bliss. This is the story that I narrate, this is the existence that you live in.

But you will find that the blindest of men stumble closest to the centre of the light. Ignorance is Great. It brings the ignorant so close to the great. Yet the ignorant know not the divine plot that the universe conspires to help uplift it from its ignorance. This Great ignorance is blinding. What is it that you hurry for? For what haste do you spit on your brother? What veil is it that obscures your sight? Blame not the veil because it is made of your own will to ignore and your own resistance to act. If you believe that the crowd moves in the right direction, you forget to seek your own answers.

The demon of this new world is Foolishness. Not Greed, nor Anger, but Foolishness tempts you the most. Every little act of foolishness you show, from dusk till dawn, reflects in your existence. This foolishness enrages the minds of even the calm, and the air compounded with aeons of frustration instigates the rage in you, suppressing the fragrance even more with the rancid smoke of contempt.

You think not about others, you ignore what the world looks like from their eyes — Have you ever thought, in your ‘moment of heat’, what the other person may have gone through? From what mind-set does your ‘foe’ come from? But here you are – here you all are. Entangled in your emotions. Drowning in your own confusion, and yet you act like you are on-board. You devise methods to avoid having to think. You act on your will you say, in the heat of the moment you blame. You do not look back with wisdom. Lessons from the past are wisdom. Cry a little more – and learn to swim past your tears. Your tiny feet, create the biggest of waves.

Big words of virtues, I use. Discrimination, be the last of them. For I sleep alongside with your power of discrimination and your cry of dilemma bothers me. I am the Wisdom of your generation.

Your thoughts?