His-tory

I would like to tell a story, one that is a miniscule fragment of the story of the universe. My story, you will soon realize, is part of the story of every human being, past or present or future. In fact, there is only one story that can be told, and every other story is either an adaptation of that one story, or a re-telling of the same. How can there be more than one story, wherein every human beings appear and disappear at their appointed time and space. You may be surprised to know that my story has no beginning and has no end; it begins abruptly and ends so. Are you wondering why it is so? You may ask the universe, which is the story-teller, and every creature on earth is just a character. If I look at my particular role in the story, I may not get either the head or the tail, because I am part of the whole, and have no existence on my own.

You should pardon me if my role in some way coincides with yours or some one else’s; know that I am not to be blamed for that. You cannot think that is an oversight by the dramatist or the playwright; it is not so. It is intended to be so. You may hear the same songs, same characters, and you may even see the same scenes enacted, re-enacted time and again. You may even be bored to death, and may wish to run away from the hall. But hang on a minute. What you think is a frozen moment at the play is in fact a progressive moment. It may benefit you if you were to drop down you wrist watch at the dustbin over there, and forget for a while the concept of time and space as you are known. Because we are in a different kind of plain, where time is not linear, but cyclical. Here you will see that characters go round in concentric circles, and their movement may be imperceptible to your naked eyes, but remember that they do move ahead. Where do they go? You may never find a satisfactory answer to this question, even as your life comes to an end. That is how the universe moves.

I am the ever old and I am the ever new; how would you define the water of a stream or a river? Is the water fresh or old? Is the water of the sea old or new? We are all flowing with the current of the stream, and we know not with which stream we may join hands. We take along all those whom we may find on the way, the simple, the weak, the selfish, the arrogant, the haughty, the cruel – everyone will have a place in our stream, and that is what gives fresh vigor and strength to the current. Do they spoil and pollute the stream? They have no power to do so, because it is beyond their power to contaminate the waters, because they can only contaminate themselves with the waters, and cannot do so to the waters. There are some who recognize me, and there are many who do not recognize me, and I have no regret towards them. I am no one to condemn or judge them. They will be their own judges in the days to come.

But where is my story? Why have I not begun my story? If you look attentively, you may realize that my story has begun already, though I might sound beating around the bush, without coming to the core of the story. You may wonder, where is the plot - the beginning, the middle and the end! Where are the Aristotelian conflict and the dénouement. I would not be surprised if you find the language of this story complex to you, and the language alien. We are used to stories, which are told from the point of view of the human persons, but here is the story told from the perspective of the universe, and the whole of human race. It is no harm if you do not get the core of the story, and are left in the middle, unable to guess what is happening to the characters. There will be a time, when you will be called to play your part, and then you may leave.

Many are the streams that have joined me over the years, and I bear all of them in my heart; there are the weak and the fragile, the haughty and the proud, the simple and the humble, I bear all of them in my heart, and they will be with me so long there is breath in me. Every time I touch someone, he or she becomes part of me, an extension of myself; I flow into that person, and that person flows into me. There is a mutual flow, enriching each other. Life flows that way; it is never one way. As it moves forward, it also retracts to take along the people she had given birth to. That is why life may seem never progressing, but if you look at from the concentric circles she encircles, you will know that she is on the move. After centuries, you may realize that she is still on the circles, because the circle never comes to an end. Life too may never see an end! (Rome)