The Ritual

Long before the advent of linear time, in a world divided only by night and day, I have been witnessing a world that’s hard to comprehend. Living by the sea after my stint in the Himalayas is a totally different experience. No steel to shut down my visions and the conflict of duality clear. I am starting at the dark boundless oceans night after night. The sight of thunder far away in the ocean inspires awe in me.  The world I live in is surrounded by temple priests and their peculiarly magnificent temples.

Every temple is a microcosm in its self. The inner sanctums of these temples are visited only by the high priests and people who display extraordinary psychic abilities. Their brains are monitored by these priests to extract vital electrical impulses to bring alive the God of doom. The God of doom activates the battery within humans which times the priest’s existence in this dark world.

The rest of us suffer and continue to live for ages to experience bitter feelings of jealousy, greed and hate. An idea that has got priests stuck in the inner sanctum for ages without seeing daylight is the idea of death. Hoping for redemption through death, these men of God have turned away from the world, torturing people with ability to be caged in the house of God.

Visitors to the temple often wonder, what’s happening in the inner sanctum? Only the smell of flesh and decay greet the followers of Doom. Every offering erodes grey cells in the head due to which this small town beside the sea is filled with zombie like humans. Thank God! I am an ordinary being with no gifts at all. I am of no use to the priests and have never gone inside any temple in this dark and sordid place. 

 

I see flashes of white light lighting up the sky in middle of the night and clamouring of metal inside the temple.  Some believe that the electrical impulses were stored in a machine that could transcend dimensional obstacles of our mind. The next day one sees the death ceremony of a high priest. The ceremony ends with a gigantic, bright and a semi-circular object hovering over the dead body in the sky. 

It is an object too bright to look at and has the thundering noise of a storm. The calm of this sleepy village is shaken once the ceremony of death takes place. A flash of light blinds us all before the dead body is visible no more on its platform. All that remains is the sacred metal in which the younger priests had got the dead body.

Life draws to normal after the ceremony and the thunder on the horizon a reminder of the real.  A life in metal, data inputs in the head and the electrical impulse which never dies but get stronger when the storm is over head.

Shadows

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The point of return is left far behind. The world has moved ahead leaving me in the shadows. Though, there’s no dark spot but only light. A shadow that is ashamed of itself, readily mingles with the light. It's a projection that wants to disassociate itself from its projector. My encounter with the world’s shadow is opening up roads within.

Desire for renewal always begins with a descent into darkness. Stuck behind a narrow door, I am willing to dissolve myself into something meaningful. Reality is not hidden from me and it has its own disadvantages.  To acknowledge the shadow, I will always remind myself about the futility of this universe. However, the search for meanings has always been interesting as the journey of Odysseus. 

One meets the darkest demons created by imagination. Men and women with hands tied to their knees, crying out for redemption. The path of realism has its own hidden variables. The intervention of the experimenter does have consequences at a remote end. Faustian path does not see the death of moral integrity and has its own rewards.

We are heading towards a future that will need a million Faust to put things right. There will be material changes of significant proportions but humans will still be the same, breathing down each other necks for space, looking for unfulfilled passion with the greed to harvest more. I have created a machine that’s always longing for knowledge and resurrection. Floating above the isles of sanity, an insane would become the liberator of morality. My idea transcends the visual and philosophical domain of logic and reasoning. Steel tightens my panoramic visions and a state of euphoria creeps in.

I am one with no one! The whole farce of nirvana shatters like a glass house run over by a road roller.  Going beyond the care of the dark mother, there’s only light. She will accept me no more as her child. I have failed the test and confronted her violent nature, refusing to be a part of the eternal drama. The consequence of this confrontation has blinded me to the extent that I only see myself. Everything else is just clear light and my own surreal imagination painting pictures in my sub-consciousness.  At times, nothing makes sense but ‘matter’.

Trying to delve deeper, it gets tough and my imagination begins vanishing. I have to keep it safe and hidden. It’s the only thing that makes me believe I am different, I exist!  I have given up on the world around me for good. Forms, expressions, emotions are trapped within me as I feel nothing for the outside. Demons have hijacked my thought process. Oh lord! I will not turn towards you for redemption, I deserve something better, something ethereal!  

These thoughts come to my head before the euphoria completely grasps my mind. I get a feeling, next time it’ll be heretical. It’s negative versus the positive. My mind chooses not to remain neutral.