Days rolled on since my return to Delhi. The New Year ’s Eve celebrated in a quieter fashion with my closest friends. No dramatic night out, no living off the brew, no obnoxious headache the next morning. Just two Tequila shots to farewell the year that has been a life changing one for me. I just took one long and deep look back into the days of 2009 and gazed on to it with a heavy heart and moved on leaving a little piece of myself safe in the blanket of the year gone by.
Whatever lies ahead, only seems to me, at best, like a repetition of the all the years gone by. My best friend, on our way back to our homes in the car, tells me that the year ahead is going to be an amazing year for our group; he tells me that the year will be the year of material success and one that will build our base or launching pad for our true pursuits of the heart. We seldom question or doubt each other’s vision or clairvoyance. We have grown together into this set of cognitive blokes. We see things as they ought to happen and they happen. The entry into the New Year was really great. It was about 10:15 a.m. and my mom woke me up from sleep. She wished me New Year again and told me that there was a courier at the door for me. Still half asleep, I walk to the door and collect the mail and head back to my room. On opening the envelope I am delighted to see a draft of fifty thousand rupees from LIC. What an amazing start man. I quickly call up Kshitij and tell him that his vision has already started to unfold. We decide that we will meet up later in the day. I make stray phone calls to my dear ones and wish them greetings for the new born year.
Then days rolled on further, and Radha started to make heightened appearances in my life. Often at the rear glass window of cars, or at my colony walls where some crazy person had painted the word Radhey Radhey in Hindi in black paint, or when my cab stopped each day at a red light adjacent to Radha Apartments in Dwarka. All these and still more are difficult to articulate. These flashes keep happening; they increase in frequency as days go by.
In one of my dreamscape sleeps, I hand over the Radha fragrance incense sticks pack to Radha herself. She makes sum fuss about it, like a juvenile, but eventually accepts it. Don’t know if she lit it up or threw the sticks towards the dark end of the universe. But I felt light, after handing it over to her. My job was done. There are pattern layered, yet randomized visits by Radha in my vast dreams. We talk often for hours, I share my exult of finding the Radha flower, of drinking its nectar, of the amazing journey that I am having. Days roll into nights and nights roll back into days, like a roll of unending papyrus. The cryptic messages of eternal love keep on playing hide and seek. I spend nights and days just thinking and probing deeper into it, into the Radha the glorious. Soaking in all the knowledge like a monster sponge. I start to retire within myself, getting lost into the endless thought barrel, unraveling layer by layer of this jing-bang called love, called Radha, call it whatever you want. The sounds of the outside world have started to lull; the means of the world outside drain and tire me, this pursuit is drawing out all that I got, the voracious hunger for knowledge, the knowledge of Radha and cynical balance of the universe.
In my sporadic, yet extended, dialogue with the keeper of the flower, the Radha herself, I indulge in tragedy of the world, I keep ranting my heart out, like a volcano that is spewing thick bubbling lava out of its vermouth. There is no end to this maze of interaction or where it might lead. The gates of truth have been kept at close cordon by the glorious flower girl. Beyond some point in the journey into Radhanation – I get accused of faking. Of faking all this up, of faking the self, of faking the concept proof of universe, of faking a feeling called love. Creation brushed aside as a fake. Ignored like a counterfeit. Now I felt how God feels when all the great sages leave the world, which was co-created to decipher the splendor of the beyond, in pursuit of moksha. How God feels ignored by the very person who needs to understand him the most. Brushed aside as fake! Damnnnnnnnnnnnnn!
I felt truly disgusted at hearing this. There was true disappointment. After all this upsurge, is this what one needs to be told? Really? Well, before I could lose my fulcrum and give away from love, the Wanderer took command.
He blanked Radha out, for a few moments, just like that. Woosh! She was nowhere, as if she never was. He looked into my eyes, reminded me of the promise of knowledge.
He told me, “Bala, listen. There is very little that I need to tell you. So whatever it is going to be is really going to be supernal stuff. No stratospherically entwined mediocrity. You are done with the Alpha, Beta and Gamma, now is the time for Phi, Chi, Psi and Omega for you. Yes boy, eventually, it is Omega for you. The eventuality is just round the bend. So hold your breath, for you will need it no more.
Remember, the flower only holds the fragrance and the nectar for a series of moments. Beyond that the universe takes it back, Be it the Radha or the Parijathak. It all goes back to the source, and in that source there is no Radha or Parijathak. There is no fragrance, no truth. No light. No dark. No you, no me, no her, no nothings. No awesomeness, no pain, no gain, no love, no trove, no reason, no season… et al.
So pardon the world, the way we are pardoned. The harshness is only a myth and a perception. There is no true hurt. No disappointments. No heart breaks. No valium to sleep, no pain to weep, no dirt to sweep, no sow to reap, no trust to keep, no essence to seep.
I am you, the Wanderer. I am all that is. Yet you seek that lays beyond. Beyond the pale blue dot. Remember the friend of mine you met at the café and what he told you. There is naught beyond what you are. That naught is the absolution. No quest can deliver, no pursuit that can quench, no freebie in this commotion, no far no near, no love no hate, no trap no gate, no magic no fate, no upsurge no abate, no train that freights no real mate. Just you and me, me and you.
So forget all that this world offers, but taketh what it giveth. And let it giveth only that you wish to taketh. For thou art the supreme, the mesmerizing Krishna, the ever evading horizon, your Radha, your true “adha” is within you, no one can steal that what you truly are, part Radha and Krishna, not even Radha the glorious can deny what is set out to be yours. So let not the fickleness of the world inhibit you. That’s not what you are designed to be. I am what you are to be. In absolute communion with Radha, the ever enchanting. So while there is still breath in your lungs, let you be an absolute slave to this carnival of love, to the bamboozling smile and her fiery eyes. Sing a song, sing along, try the beat, there is truly nothing to move on, go on, and remember you have been born.
Let the magic unfold before your eyes, for it is my personal and sacrosanct promise that your Radha is all yours, and after traveling a million seas, she will head forth back to thee, to me, to the man who loves her without a fee, like the roots of a tree, like the roar of the sea, like the knock of the knee, like you are today one day she will be. Remember the poem once you wrote about all this and me… I quote you Bala here.
“A day will come and you will see that I will turn into every answer that I once asked of thee”
It is my solemn promise my dear boy, that Radha is all that is to be. And if one day still remain in this universe, remember the song by Jon Bon Jovi… Always, forever and a day, she will be… she will be.”
Hearing this, I hooked up to the universal signal and caught the last train to the coast and believed that she was waiting there for me.
