‘That’s a nice game indeed,’ Zara turned to the grasshopper.
‘Come, you play gatekeeper, while I play the Lord.’
By now, the creatures had begun to disperse in ones and twos and in fives and tens. The grasshopper, too, hopped off Zara’s shoulders and, soon, flew out of sight. Zara turned to the river from where she had parked herself, now on the second step from the water. The river took one wide glance at Zara and smiled.
And then, she resumed her graceful flow. In silence.
‘Are you looking at me?’ Zara asked the river.
CHAPTER 4
It had been quiet by the bank for sometime now. The sun had reached mid sky, its morning pleasantness giving way to midday scorn. Droplets of sweat had started gathering on Zara’s forehead as she shaded her eyes with her palms, her feet dipped in water.
‘Hi, Zara, still wondering?’ the frog appeared from nowhere and parked himself next to her. ‘Come, let’s take a break under the peepul tree up there on the promenade and introduce you to the wonders of my world.’
And so, the frog hopped one step at a time, from one to two, from two to three, from three to four, from four to five, from five to six, from six to seven, from seven to eight, from eight to nine. Zara turned around and hopped. And hop, hop, hop, she climbed. And the moon waxed and waned with every hop. And with each step, Zara grew taller and taller. And so, she reached the promenade.
Squatting there was the monitor lizard.
‘Access control,’ remembered Zara.
Seeing Zara up there in the company of the frog, the lizard lost his cool, his knuckles knocking, knock, knock, knock; his shoulders straightened, head erect.
‘Out ya go, you silly girl,’ the lizard kicked the air. Frightened, Zara lost her balance and tumbled down the steps.
‘This isn’t the place for you,’ she heard the lizard shout.
Humiliated and hurt, Zara collected herself and walked down to where she had come from, by the waterside, her head lowered, tears welling up her eyes, as the frog, disturbed and ashamed, hopped by her side.
By the time Zara had climbed down the steps, she somewhat regained her composure, as she sat down by the river, the frog by her side.
‘Never mind, Zara. Denial denies you the sense of importance in life,’ the river remarked, as she flowed on.
It wasn’t long before the frog croaked at Zara once more.
‘Come on Zara, let’s give it another try.’
Puzzled, Zara looked right and left, and then, stood up, her face lit up once more. And hop, hop, hop, they climbed.
The monitor was still squatting on the promenade when they reached the top. This time, he signalled Zara to sit. And as Zara dusted the floor to sit face-to-face with the lizard, the frog hopped over to his side, facing Zara.
‘What have you learnt little girl?’ the lizard asked, as Zara raced her mind, thinking why she was so different from the rest of the creatures by the bank. And how she had patiently waited by the water all these years, as the worms crawled to and fro in their mad scramble for survival. Then, picking up on how the lizard had admonished her in the morning, Zara asked him to guess her age.
‘You must be, well, well, well, eight . . . or nine . . . or ten.’ the monitor replied.
‘Ha! I am much older than you think I am, dear Lizzy. I am certainly much older than most of the creatures gathered here. I am as old as Rivah! I flowed down here, from high up in the mountains, the day she came alive at the glacier’s tongue. That’s when I, too, was born in the dark. And now, I have been here by the bank for as long as I can remember.’ For once, the lizard was nonplussed.
‘It’s not that I am ageing while I am young, it’s just that I am young even though I have aged,’ Zara laughed.
‘O Lizzy! you have learnt to look at the glass half empty, but you still need to fill up your tumbler before your wisdom can flow like Rivah! Small wonder, your knowledge ends with age imprisoning you to a lifetime as gatekeeper.
‘Maybe, dear Lizzy, you are content being the monitor that you are, but that cannot be the end. Because, after all, in the end, there is really no end. Life just goes on, and on, and on. So that we can merge our being in the other, irrespective of where we are and when,’ Zara smiled at the lizard and raised her arms.
Going round in a whirl, she let out the magic words she had first learnt from the river.
‘Jo tu hai, so main hoon,
jo main hoon, so tu hai!’
The lizard looked at Zara, amused, then smiled. ‘You’ve got it all, Oh Zara! You’ve got it all. You have grasped the wisdom, climbing up these steps that I spent a lifetime to learn by this river’s bank.’
‘Just mind yourself and put that knowledge to good use, dear Zara. And if you have a doubt, just come by. I shall sharpen your thinking,’ the lizard winked and darted off into the thicket behind the promenade.
Zara smiled and blew a kiss at Lizzy. She had understood the monitor just as well as the monitor had understood her.
It was late afternoon by the time Zara had climbed down to the waterfront. The sun was beginning to kiss the snow-clad peak of the tall, dark granite of the Moonshine Mount below which stood the pink sandstone Ah!nandita Hills, resplendent in the glow of the soon-to-be setting sun.
‘That was well done, Zara, you handled your encounter with the lizard rather well. Learn to engage, disengage, and re-engage, dear girl,’ the river said, flowing by.
Zara smiled.
‘Well done, Zara,’ the frog croaked aloud. Now, let’s get up there, below the peepul tree, for you to meet my guests at tea.’
And so, they both ran up.
‘Eeeks!’ Zara screamed, ‘You are not having them for snacks,’ she shouted, staring disgustedly at the caterpillars gathered below the tree.
‘Ha! Come easy, Zara,’ the frog croaked. ‘I come here to introduce my friends, who have come to the river from afar, not to eat them up.’ And then, turning towards the creepy crawlies, the frog said, ‘Zara, can you tell them why they live such a short life?’
‘Hmmm!’ Zara hesitated, then wondered before taking a deep breath of fresh air.
And she laughed, ‘They live such a short life because Froggy eats them up all.’
‘Hahaha!’ the caterpillars laughed in one voice, even as the embarrassed frog blew his face in anger.
‘Don’t be stupid, Zara,’ the frog admonished. I asked you the question in all seriousness.
‘Come on, learn to take a joke, Froggy,’ Zara reprimanded him.
And then, she said, ‘What you get to see, dear, is only half the picture. You get to see life in slices. The caterpillars never really fail the life test. They actually grow out of that life, feeding on what they have till they can feed no more. And when they stop feeding, they stop growing any bigger. That’s when they go into the hiding of their darkness within, seeking an answer to what’s in store, even as the world around writes them off. Yet, deep within, in the wisdom of their souls, the caterpillars transcend their physical beings to emerge as beautiful butterflies. That’s the wonder of their wisdom. They grow from prosperity to richness, from beauty to wonder. O Froggy! For the caterpillars, their bodies may ground to dust, but their souls live on till they acquire a newer form.’
The caterpillars nodded appreciatively.
‘Well said, Zara,’ said the river, rising up. ‘Construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct to stay in touch and remain relevant. That’s how you can all live happily ever after.’
CHAPTER 5
At sundown, Zara sat back, lazing . . . watching the ethereal display of light and sound by the river. The glow-worms danced in the dark to the chime of the thousand bells and blows of the thousand conch shells. The thousand lamps came floating downriver in a thousand leaf cups before ascending heavenwards in the distance. And the Moonshine Mount dazzled in the glare of the full moon matching the resplendence of the thousand gemstones atop the Peacock Ridge.
And the dance floors in the metros bey
ond the Peacock Ridge woke up to heady music as pretty damsels gyrated to shrill excited whistles from a hundred leering faceless bystanders.
‘Your world is unreal, Zara, don’t get trapped by your illusions,’ said the river. ‘Our mind lures us forever to the sights and sounds of its own apparitions. What you get to see of yourself in this world, dear Zara, whether in the reflection of the pool or the dazzle around you is only a miniaturised representation of the eternal whole. Just like you saw the enormous sun as a tiny ball in the pool when you first looked yourself up in my water on that hot summer day, everything you see around is a miniaturisation of this never-ending cosmos.’
Zara sat listening to the faint sweet voice of the river in the surrounding wilderness.
‘Those glow-worms, Zara, and those gemstones, and the glow in the horizon from the city lights beyond the Peacock Ridge, you have enjoyed them all. Now, look up at the sky,’ said the river.
Zara looked up at the stunning night sky, with billions and billions of stars twinkling, far brighter and more enchanting than all the light she had seen so far.
‘Look Zara, look deep, and soak yourself completely in the joys of your imagination,’ the river went on. ‘Each of those stars you see in the distance is far, far bigger than any gemstone you will find around this world. In fact, each of those stars is several times bigger than the sun. Why, they are even a million times bigger than this world where you were born,’ the river went on.
‘It beats me how it could be so,’ said Zara. ‘There is nothing as big as my world. The sun is so big, and so powerful, and so strong. Even this earth, where I am, is so many times bigger than the sun and the moon and everything else in the sky. I can see them all, just as I can see the stars right now.’
‘Just so, Zara,’ said the river. ‘But the earth actually goes around the sun and is what it is because of it. And the sun is actually among the smaller stars that make up this Universe of your creation. It’s just that you get to see what you must from where you are stationed in life and at what time of the day or night. It is just as with the sun, that’s really what it is, but you see it in its various moods of the day because of where you are positioned from it.’
‘Is that so?’ Zara asked. ‘All this sounds too complicated for my age. Is this Universe really an illusion of my mind? Right now, I can dance with the glow-worms on the promenade, climb up the Peacock Ridge tomorrow, and pick up those gemstones one day. And some time, when I grow up, I can even lose myself in the dazzle of the city lights to the applause of a thousand hands. The stars?’
‘You can even reach the stars,’ the river said. ‘Nothing is impossible, dear Zara, in this illusion of your creation. That is how your world goes around. Whatever you do, do it with firmness and resolve, and you shall reach your destination. The force of your intellect, alone, can help you achieve your end, little girl.’
‘Aha!’ Zara replied, pondering. ‘I am still too young to reach someplace.’
‘But nothing stops you from using the power of your knowledge, from reaching where you want to be, just like you used your power against a million other bubbles to reach where you are now.’
‘How did I do it?’ Zara asked, raising a brow.
‘You did it because you knew it even deep inside the bubble that imagination held your world together. That’s how you outsmarted the others in negotiating your destination. In reality, where you are and where you reach are as much true or false as your desire to be where you want to be. Nothing else matters.’
‘Is that so? You mean it? Nothing else matters?’ Zara asked.
‘Yes, indeed. When you know that and believe it as such, you do not hurt others,’ the river came back. ‘When you know that you are actually the monster of your own power, you rest in humility and in love of all. But that’s another story I’ll tell you another day,’ the river told Zara.
‘But please, tell me more,’ Zara fussed, kicking the air, ‘I love to hear your voice.’
‘Hehe!’ the river laughed. ‘I can see you getting charmed by my words. But beware, Zara, the charm and attraction of my thirst is a far greater illusion than the thirst for glamour that will draw you now. Beware! Involve yourself with a situation only as much as you are needed.’
‘And how do I do that?’ asked Zara.
‘First, dear Zara, keep your mind in balance. Don’t waver at whatever you see around. Statis of mind is essential.’
‘Hmmm!’ Zara nodded.
‘Next, keep your senses under control. Never, ever get excited. When you do that, you rid yourself of your dilemma of differentiating between what’s good and bad. What’s real, what’s virtual.’
‘And why is that important?’ Zara asked.
‘Just look at me, Zara,’ the river said, ‘I don’t discriminate between who I like and who I don’t, between the rich and the poor. That’s because I have nothing to prove, no matter how others perceive me. I have no war to win. I am here only to quench the thirst of whoever needs my water. I was alive before I was born, and I shall remain alive after I die, sometimes as water, at other times as cloud, snow or ice, and at still other times, as just hot air. Yet, at all times, I am what I am. Neither did I bring anything else along when I arrived on the earth as water, nor will I carry anything else away when I ride the sky as vapour.’
‘So, in the end, it’s all a zero-sum game,’ Zara wondered aloud.
‘I love games with a love-all ending.’
‘Wow! That’s a lesson well learnt,’ the river told Zara. ‘The fun is in loving one and all. I’ll tell you more. For now, it’s good night all. See you tomorrow!’
CHAPTER 6
An eerie silence descended by the bank that night as darkness engulfed the surroundings. Haunting shadows of the Peacock Ridge, the Moonshine Mount, and the Ah!nandita Hills loomed above the river. The glow in the distant eastern sky from the city lights was gone. There were no glow-worms dancing on the bank, no sound of bells and conch shells. The river, gurgling in the enveloping silence, had turned pitch dark, as if a lake of ink had spilt over in a giant flow in the distant mountains.
After everyone had gone to bed, the frog quietly hopped over to Zara and woke her up, ‘Hey, Zara, wake up.’
Zara rubbed her eyes and shouted, ‘Now what?’ It had been a long day and she needed to sleep.
‘Sssh!’ the frog whispered. ‘Zara, you’ve been with the river for a long time now. What’s been your experience so far? The river asked me to find out.’
‘When did she do that?’ Zara shot back.
And then, turning to the river, she said, ‘O Rivah! Froggy tells me you want to know my feelings. I have none. I shed my feelings high up in the mountains at the tongue of the glacier, the moment I came riding you here. I shed my emotions up there. I do not doubt what you say. But, as far as my feelings for you go . . . well, I do not seek any hope from you, nor do I despair from your presence. Every time you speak to me, I see my reflection in you, and it feels nice. And it feels good to feel nice.’
‘It feels good to feel nice,’ the frog repeated. ‘It feels good to spread those feel-good words around.’ And he hopped away into the surrounding darkness.
Zara lay down, turning on her side, facing the river, waiting to catch her sleep. It was to be a long wait. She lay there and thought. And thought and thought and thought, wondering if, indeed, she had renounced her feelings and emotions up there in the mountains at the glacier’s tongue.
‘Was I being true to my words or was I playing mind games?’ she asked herself, self-doubt consuming her mind. Had she been arrogant, she would have behaved as such, Zara thought, not couched her attitude in sweet nothings.
And she told herself, ‘Yes, on the face of it, I was being true.’
Zara had renounced her feelings and emotions before embarking on the long river ride. That’s how she had come to be here, alone and all by herself, unlike all the other creatures that had come to the riverbank in twos and threes and fours . . .
; ‘Yet, there must be a lingering feeling of attachment, tucked somewhere deep in my heart,’ Zara told herself. ‘I cannot be so heartless.’
And Zara’s mind raced from situation to situation, from creature to creature—the elephant, the monitor lizard, the frog, the grasshopper, the dragonfly, the butterfly, the bee—scanning her deepest feelings of love and hatred. And with every imagined situation and creature she kept reassuring herself, ‘Yes, it’s true. I left my emotions behind.’
And then, her mind raced backwards, up the river’s course, past the narrow gullies and steep gorges, climbing the fall in backward motion. Back, back, back, past rapids and bends, at double the speed at which she had descended, in flashback motion till she came to rest at the mouth of the glacier encased in the plasma bubble in which she had once arrived at the riverbank.
And there, the glacier’s tongue licked the bubble as Zara lay crumpled on her side, the size of an atom, looking right into the bubble that rested next to her, encasing her lookalike.
‘Whooaaa! That’s Zara again, in my likeness,’ Zara told herself.
‘Now, what if I reach out to her?’ she wondered. ‘I only need to reach my finger out to get a feel of her by my side.’ And so, raising her right arm, Zara extended her index finger from inside the bubble. And her likeness raised her left arm mirroring Zara’s movement, extending her index finger toward Zara.
She had almost touched the inner wall of her own bubble when, suddenly, she stopped.
‘What if my bubble bursts? Will the other bubble burst as well? And what if it does and that other Zara of my likeness falls down smeared in a splash of red? Oh God! She’s such a tiny creature. How can I ever hurt her?’
And so, Zara asked herself, ‘What if Zara, my lookalike, disappears at my sudden touch now that I am so close to bursting her bubble? Would I then feel her loss? Would I mourn her?’
Zara tried to avoid the fountain of questions spouting forth from her mind.
‘Oh! She’s such an innocent. She deserves all my emotions,’ she consoled herself, staring at her lookalike. And at once, she felt scared as the mop of hair on her head stood on its end and fear slowly crawled up her shivering spine.
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