Speed

[ Fiction ]

He arrived at the shade with the car key in clutched fist and immediately settled in the drivers seat slamming the door.

Ignition turned full on and engine fired up; screeches of backing up turning tires tore up peace of the quiet neighborhood's night. By the time he arrived at the on-ramp to the freeway his harsh breaking and equally sudden accelerations would have made his mood clear to any onlookers but they were absent and he was oblivious. His mind didn't even register the fading profanities of a pick-up trucker when he merged in front of him being too close for comfort.

Once in lane with some breathing space ahead, he started moving again.

Tick tick.. a look behind...left
Tick tick.. left
Tick tick.. left...

He was now in the fastest lane with road on slight descent; in middle of dense traffic that was moving rapidly in both directions, oncoming yellows equally matched by the reds flowing ahead. 78-85-90-92-. And he found he can't go any further. Then he started weaving between the cars where space allowed and he felt he will soon leave this cloud of traffic behind. He thought, he was discovering a new mode of driving and started feeling better.

Suddenly he saw the image of the truck ahead blow up on his windshield in silence. For the next second he was not present but here is what happened. His foot pressed on the break pedal instinctively, then lifted itself, his right hand turned the power steering for a split second and restored it back. When he woke up from this second-long dream he was surrounded by deafening silence and then suddenly the noise of the freeway came back and he found he was seeing back fender of some car roll on the road and being left behind in the rear view mirror. For few seconds he was completely blank. Then he felt the hair rise on the arms and felt his heart beating with something gushing in his arms and shoulders. He realized he was still driving and he centered his car in the lane.

At the master's feet

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I am sitting just 4 feet away from where Ramana Maharshi used to sit and meet people in the old hall. It is morning and my fingers are touching the black stones of the floor, in an effort to ground myself to the vibrations of the place.

I sit motionless which is very easy to do in this atmosphere. I am able to see each and every thought arising in my mind with astounding detail and detachment along with being conscious of my breath. This has never happened before. Most of my thoughts are about self-importance and communication of this to others. How I am going to brag to others what experience did I have and entering into philosophical discussions about it. I can see my communication instinct so vividly. While mind is thinking about all this, I am fully aware and I try to gather and let my thoughtless self prevail. After few moments of success, it is same again.
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Walls are decorated with big and small pictures of Maharshi's life. Floor is made up of red square tiles layed in offseted manner. Stones of the wall are painted in light yellow and all the woodwork in bottle green. There's plenty of light and air in the room. I am sitting on floor resting my back on the wall experiencing few precious moments of silence and clarity. Coming to the ashram and seeing all these pictures and artifacts feels like being in ancestral home of some loving great grandfather whom I have forgotten from ages. Unlike other places of ashram, there is no set purpose for this room. There is absolutely nothing to do and I don't have any problem with it. Time is flowing at it's own pace taking me in it. And I have lost resistance to it.
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I am seated below the tree outside old hall in darkness. A hot summer day at Ashram is about to close and people are singing Ramana Sadhguru Rayane in the samadhi hall in tamil. Ladies' stanza is followed by gents' and slowly it goes on and on building up atmosphere of sincerity and devotion. Their singing is so harmonious that the collective accent of their language still emerges out of it and adds to the character of the song. Their singing is urging me to let the waves of devotion run over my anxious mind and close my day.

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It is 5pm. Maharshi's samadhi mandap and its 16 carved stone pillers are ringing with veda chants. Everyone in samadhi hall is silently marvelling at these air-piercing pronouncements on the deep mystical existence of man. Throats are getting choked and tears are building up in eyes. These ancient sounds from forefathers are moving people exactly in a way they themselves would have been moved once.
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In the shadow of Arunachala

It is about to be nine and the activities at the ashram are slowly drawing to a close. Most of the devotees and curious travellers of the day have left or are in process of leaving. The doors of the temple of the mother are closed and the most lights are off in new hall next to it. Only one electric bulb is on in the hall and its golden incandescence is making the outline of Maharshi's statue discernible. At the large samadhi hall too lights are getting off. The bhajans of regular householder devotees have concluded and their singing has left a trace of sincere devotional closure in the atmosphere of the ashram.

On the steps climbing up to the closed doors of the dining hall there hangs an electric bulb. The dim luminance of the bulb is illuminating large area around it; the straw shade, a line of water taps, the well and the tree in front of the old hall.

In the old hall an oil lamp is burning on a brass lamp stand hanging from the ceiling. Next to it lies Maharshi's sofa and on it lies his life sized portrait. Surrounding the sofa is a wooden fence and the floor is paved with black tiles made of stones. The very stones on which Maharshi himself would have walked once.

I along with last few of the devotees are seated in this dark and peacefully silent old hall. The tick-tock of the pendulum clock on the wall to the right is giving the mind something to latch onto amidst the usual noise of thoughts. Time is passing on. Finally the clock breaks its silence striking nine blows one by one reminding everyone the need to wake up. As I am trying to get up, I am feeling water at edges of my long closed eyes and my joined lips are resisting any movement to open up.

I stand up, do pranam and take his leave carrying a certain focus and solidity in my mind. I start walking in dark in deep thoughts with a huge shadow of Arunachala on my back. As I walk I think, the old man has left us in body seventy years back but the fragrance of his great soul is ever present here and it is drawing me here again and again where he dwellt in flesh and bones for a large part of his life.

As I am leaving and walking towards iron gate of the Ashram, I am feeling as if entering the physical world afresh with progressively increasing noises of the city and the road. And a grocery store board across the road reads in small fonts below its name: "All things available here".

I smile within, cross the road and stand waiting for a bus that will take me home.