A Bead

“It’s not working with me,” suppressing his emotional outpour Rudraksh confided in Aum.

“It happens, things doesn’t seem to work, you look, you search, you try,  you persevere, you want to know and understand but the harder you try, the more you feel sinking within. We all have been through this Rudraksh. That’s your journey of realisation.”

“I want to yell and shout.”

“Then you must, don’t suppress the pent-up things,” placidly consoled Aum.

“Is it right?”

“I shall not judge you Rudraksh. If you want to burst out, cry out, pour out- do that , don’t suppress, just allow the emotional turmoil to pass. Let the rain come. Let the clouds empty themselves. Let the breeze gently pass by and then the Sun shall shine bright in the mirror, in the sky of your consciousness, making you see your true self, not the vrittis, not your turmoil, rather, you, your true being.”

“Aum, you are sounding too preachy to me. The moral conducts and glibful talks seem to have covered and polished you so well. Do this and do that. It’s good and that’s bad. This technique and that tool: use that, in this way, that too in a silent prescribed way. I want to be loud. I want to run amuk. The pang of hurt and pain of loss is making me blind. Nothing make sense to me now. Just go away, Aum.” Pushed Rudraksh and went to his room.

In the dim light he sat at the corner, remembering everything that had happened. He rushed and then took out all the paraphernalia from the cabinet. The sweat drooping from his head, fists tightened, teeth clenched, folds on the forehead, face grimaced. Hurriedly his hands started grouping and segregating the pile that laid in front of him. Stapler pins all scattered, unused refills stuck to each other, CD’s unattended, ear phones broken, wires of charger mashed, fevicol sprayed with ink bottle and all papers and bills coloured and stuck into each other. Badges worn-out. Medals faded. And this small white box pressed under the tool box.

Either he found it, or the box reached to him; that didn’t matter in that moment. Suddenly, there was peace covering him. Sitting by the side of the pile he was still. The mount of pile blurred. His gaze fixed on that box. Opened he, with a touch of inquisitiveness…and then tears joined him in his self bliss.

A long sigh, breathed he, holding the bead of Rudraksha in his hand, smiled he. A flash of glimpse, a light that closed his eyes, sat he, with himself for the first time in his life.