My tears began to hum a tune lost in its own story


It is a unique rhythm or tune issuing from awareness of movements in the shape of a sweet twitter—which manifests itself into infinite shapes and endless frames standing in suspense—what name should I assign to the pose of this deep perception of existence?
Life or Lifelessness?
Life—the definition of this word is very brief and lies merely at the upper surface, but the link of the manifestation, moving about in its inner depth, has refused to bring it into the prison of words. With Life is associated the memory of birth and Death and it again delimits Life. However its rhythmic, melodious character which constitutes boundless Bliss as it contains the rangoli of infinite Life. I greet with great reverence the awareness that has burgeoned from that sensibility of mine. I welcome it whole-heartedly.
Ever since my journey of Life started under the label of ‘Shaheer’, I have remained ignorant of myself, for though my gait was oblique on the track of Life, it was yet sapless and insipid. My feelings sought one way, but I moved in other directions. Standing on the cross roads, in a staggering state, amidst the motion of breaths through the gales of thoughts and the whirlwinds of feelings and emotions—I roamed about so much that, despite my craving for sleep and rest, my existence could never rest at Peace.
This very existence that lay at a distance of miles from rest, which caught in the meshes of suffocation, worry, fear, and helplessness, was eating up the moments of my Life and was no less than Death for me, causing breathlessness.
Suddenly—in this journey of Life for the fulfillment of my greatest wish, when the awareness of my incompletion stung me—my whole direction, angle of vision changed. When the new direction took charge of my restless and convulsive state, I could never make out whose endeavor it was. Whose mercy was it that was falling like rain in this thirsty desert?
This new direction, which I found some five years back, at times sings paeans of separation and detachment along with the joyful songs of spring and at times has romance with the autumnal season. The Beauty of all Time begins to restrict and bind this Life with some personal, individual courage. In the midst of the rhythmic rise and swell of all my feelings, this Life tries to clad this existence in the hard apparel of individuality, at it the heaviness of my binding chains begins to lighten itself.
I, the mad one, can not decide what all this signifies and what direction they suggest.
Today, after an interval of four years and ten months, an inner urge cries halt so forcefully that I cannot describe it; though my Silence had begun four years and 10 months back, this deep Silence of today contains a glimpse of a progressive acme of perfection, which makes my existence stagnant in my Silence.
Suddenly I felt that:
Day or night
Whether I wash the utensils or cook food
I am not myself
My tongue is touching my palate, saliva is flowing from my mouth, and my body is in a relaxed state.
My feelings, caught in muteness, could not bear this unendurable state; the stream of tears dropped, dripping from the corners of my eyes. They began to hum a tune lost in its own story. In search of comfort, my tormented existence lay awake in the lap of rest where a bugle is blowing, not for Life but for Lifelessness; there sobbing sighs, convulsive breaths, and parched moments were enjoying rest in the womb of tranquil moments.
Under the watchman-ship of this non-existence, the being gets fragrant—here one feels the comfort of sleep. The eye is open, but the caravans of reflections have departed. The body is asleep, but the self is awake. Therefore, the preying claw of feelings and emotions being out of sight, I am in the state of relaxation. Then I come to know today:
This state of relaxation—in which moments emanate fragrance, the grandeur and pride of Life and the distinct state of being vivifies itself. At this Time, there is the traffic of Peace and rest in one’s breaths.