Sitting by the lake, the breeze hit my face on a fine Sunday evening. The rhythm of waves hitting the shore broke open the box, and so emerged a stream of thoughts that demanded attention. Nothing was broken, except me. The desire of being looked into – the desire of being looked through the faces woven so meticulously, started to surface. The impermeable web of faces was indeed impervious, for the keenest of eyes failed to look beyond it. And why should they, for it was never meant to be so. Why then the heart desires that someone looks beyond?
‘What is being protected so fiercely?’
Alas! It is not even known that something’s actually being – Not even to me. Yet, the heart desires…
To the beholder far beyond – It is but a green tree bearing fruits with a glossy trunk. A traveler passing by dreads – The green tree hovers above a dark pit, bearing hollow fruits, a hollow glossy trunk, roots unseen, watered by the darkness below. The roots of my own faces! ‘Was it I that sowed me where I now am?’ Yet the tree is green and bears fruit, and it is by its own virtue that it does; for the others around it have perished, succumbing to the darkness from not where their roots once were, but from the one within.
The fiercely protected were my own fruits, desired to be reached by the ones who desire it. There is no pit, no hollowness around. The fruits know it, they can see it. The roots are clearly visible, and there is serenity. The observer still speaks of the dread, the dark pit, the hollowness, which is but an illusion. He knows it, yet, his fear keeps him away. Unspoken remains the secret passage to the tree itself, to the fruit that has existed to be shared; to the one who sees it, to the one who desires it, but certainly not to be wasted by the passing of time. Dilemma thus creeps into creating the unheard roars of its battle with desire, creating the utmost unrest from within. No one notices this struggle, for the web of faces the tree has woven to protect its fruits, buries the turmoil deep inside, lest the traveler becomes aware of it, the chances of shedding the fruit turns slim.
Dilemma will be defeated; either by the victory of the desire, or by its defeat, for the very existence of dilemma is due to the existence of the desire it is fighting with. And since it is so, the heart goes on, and desires…
Darkness fell. Not within me, but outside. It was night, and the sparking moonlight over the calm ripples of water glimmered in my eyes. It was time to go home, once again, to start the journey towards a new day, to wear the impermeable mask, yet again.
To the beholder far beyond – It is but a green tree bearing fruits with a glossy trunk. A traveler passing by dreads – The green tree hovers above a dark pit, bearing hollow fruits, a hollow glossy trunk, roots unseen, watered by the darkness below. The roots of my own faces! ‘Was it I that sowed me where I now am?’ Yet the tree is green and bears fruit, and it is by its own virtue that it does; for the others around it have perished, succumbing to the darkness from not where their roots once were, but from the one within.
The fiercely protected were my own fruits, desired to be reached by the ones who desire it. There is no pit, no hollowness around. The fruits know it, they can see it. The roots are clearly visible, and there is serenity. The observer still speaks of the dread, the dark pit, the hollowness, which is but an illusion. He knows it, yet, his fear keeps him away. Unspoken remains the secret passage to the tree itself, to the fruit that has existed to be shared; to the one who sees it, to the one who desires it, but certainly not to be wasted by the passing of time. Dilemma thus creeps into creating the unheard roars of its battle with desire, creating the utmost unrest from within. No one notices this struggle, for the web of faces the tree has woven to protect its fruits, buries the turmoil deep inside, lest the traveler becomes aware of it, the chances of shedding the fruit turns slim.
Dilemma will be defeated; either by the victory of the desire, or by its defeat, for the very existence of dilemma is due to the existence of the desire it is fighting with. And since it is so, the heart goes on, and desires…
Darkness fell. Not within me, but outside. It was night, and the sparking moonlight over the calm ripples of water glimmered in my eyes. It was time to go home, once again, to start the journey towards a new day, to wear the impermeable mask, yet again.
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