Evanescence Eloquence and Dreams

A knight’s dream is an ensemble of glory, love, pain and death. The eloquence of victory, the fear of loss and a seeming hushed hope for adoration, quite intrinsically imbibes the genes of mortality itself. At their own assorted levels, each idiosyncrasy manifests with a vigor of its own, waning away progressively with time, making way for another. Dissociation of imagination with a significant level of persistence in ephemerality though seemingly subservient to an unknown plane of consciousness, impregnates the three layers of impermanence which is better carved up by the contours of time as the past, the present and the future. Transience of being makes them real, while somewhere deep inside one’s consciousness, inside the veils of thoughtlessness, exists a thought of eternality. The feeling of permanence in an endless stream of bliss, wisdom, splendor, strength, wealth, fame and renunciation. 

‘So near yet so far’, perhaps is quite a familiar thought in it’s own scheme of things. Quite implicitly, the essence of true wisdom perhaps subject to self-realization, seems to have established its own order of precedence. Frailty of mortal vision makes one perceive a snake even when a piece of rope is lying around. Does that imply, that one has experienced a snake before, most probably in a similar situation or are the wavelengths of wisdom shared across immortality ? It could be neither too, as ignorance limits thoughts and curbed thoughts limit mortal vision. The myth of self-fulfilling prophecies power the vanity of existential being. With unrealized dimensions and non-existent assumptions they appear to be true and necessitate exceptions to espouse the theorized advocacy.

An unrealized dream in which mortality takes birth, lives, dies and replenishes must have an innate aim. The goals of duality opposes the very laws of nature in the ascribed absence of boundlessness. The goal of a seeker is to seek and in this case wisdom of being and non-being seems paramount to satiate the quest of life.

An Evangelist's Epilogue

Glow of a resplendent fragrance of a bliss ever known,

A parlance innate, perpetual, too special in its own,  

Beyond invisible realms of the metaphysical and the ethereal,

Each step closer dispelling the eternity of any periphery,

Makes eons mingle, stalling every moment passing by.

A charm of romanticism with that effervescent love, cannot adorn the inherently yet a bit toothy smile of anyone but her. With skin flowing like silk with such pearly glow, and a sculpted face with eyes beholding a fleeting glory of innocence; moments of idiocy and the then terms of endearment, makes my mind traverse the outgrown wanderlust of sanity itself. 

Sense of humor could very well entertain itself, but the effect of her insanity seems just  unprecedented. Everything and anything have been adopted with "u"s and they sound real phunee. Even a puppy would be henceforth known as a 'powpee'. Her silence seems minimal with disturbance being phenomenal. 

A rare occurrence, but terms of endearment call for a hurt ego, to be calmed with some real poor jokes; which could be at anyone's cost. 

Frugality sustains itself by saving ten from a taxi yet spending two thousand on some new shiny idiotic fabric which could be very well used to clean a wet table, even rub a dirty floor. Culinary skills do not need any introduction, mostly they are bragged long before the food can honor your plate. With hands carved out of a poetic finesse, it would be a treat to watch her cook. Most of the times a measured sense of impatience exists in her mind, trying to finish the most nonsensical things quickly.

Quite satirically to my forgetfulness, God has endowed her with a mighty sense of remembrance, more powerful than any organizer on this planet. Rest assured the date, time and place of any and every event will be there in her head. More than often it's a welcome trouble, when you are reminded of forgetting a few fake birthdays. I am even sometimes confused with the real ones.

An embarrassing set of nicknames other than the primary ones, can make even a corpse laugh. Perhaps that's a part theory and a part practice. Understanding each other is never a primary, having a highly correlated sense of humor, however is. Most of the times her eyes are moonstruck with love, however a bit of my impatience relieves them of any cosmic delusion for long. 

Perhaps it's just a dream, perhaps it's material under the semblance of another dream, but it still goes on and on, impulsively. The morning star shines bright, leaving behind a silent conundrum of wakefulness, forgetfulness and pure bliss.

Connecting the dots

You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards

Credits-highway12ventures.com

In the grand scheme of things, man, perhaps an insignificant speck of the universe, crusades with the force of a lone ranger against the travesties of fate, the constrained contours of his world and mind. If life were a game of chess, man oblivious to the greater designs in store, plans his course of action till the last move. However, in retrospect he often realizes that the Invisible Hand guided his soul in his stratagem. Countless experiences and remarkable reminiscences bequeath humans with poignant embrace of self-reflection and even an entropic evolution. With this background, we begin the narrative of the trilogy of a pauper-prince- priest. 

From the forsaken lands, in a deep veil of consummate innocence, a young cowherd boy was tending his cattle in the lush green outfields of the northern turfs, oblivious to the fractious contentions over lust for power, wealth and material riches that threatened the fragile peace of his nation. It was a time when bloodshed was pervasive in the royal families given the greed for command and it had further divided the states, making the nation intricately vulnerable to foreign invasions. A time had come when someone had to take an oath of unswerving loyalty to the people, and expunge the State from individuals in the higher echelons of authority who had become hostages to avarice. A learned brahmin priest, better known by the name of Kautilya took an oath upon himself to restore Akhanda Bharat. Perhaps, his oath was based upon the depth of his conditioned knowledge for the betterment of entire populace, and it was just too intense to be rather dismissed on feeble grounds of seeking singular vengeance against the Nanda dynasty. As fate would have it, an insignificant actor in the annals of history - the young cowherd, was the chosen savior of Magadh by Kautila. Kautilya adopted him like his own son, trained him in scriptures, war-craft and the essence of philosophy.

Unaware of his future prospects, the young boy was made to work through an arduous schedule. Never before in his life had he, known the alphabets of Pali or felt the grip of the hilt or learned the philosophy of mankind or seen a life beyond cattle and livestock. Food imbibed with small doses of poison was served to Chandragupta without his knowledge to make him immune to any similar effort at regicide. A serene and blissful life of a cowherd, deeply unconnected to the gross manifestations of politics and ascendancy was the sole repertoire of the innocent cowherd. Yet, he had to summon his will and courage to undergo the teachings of his master, leaving behind elements of his self-defined future. 

Shortly after completing his training, Chandragupta witnessed the legendary prowess of the mighty Macedonian army of Alexander the Great.  On the advice of Kautilya, he had to serve the Macedonian army to learn the ways of strategically superior battle units and along with it, he had to fine tune his own proficiency as a warrior. Consequently, he had to raise an army which was composed of both light and efficient battle units to fight in all kinds of terrain. During this period he had some level of ambiguity in the both the effectiveness and the consequentiality of his preparation.

After a period of intense conquests, Chandragupta stopped his expansion and focused on consolidation and development of his empire. He had made his empire huge and given it a great system of governance; now that he had all the land he wanted he settled down to focus on these domestic matters. Later during his reign Chandragupta came across a Jain sage named Bhadrabahu and converted to Jainism, renouncing his throne in favour of his son Bindusara.

Now the pauper-prince-priest trilogy resurfaces. In this brief narrative, Chandragupta as a boy was unaware of what future held for him while undergoing severities under the tutelage of Kautilya. Even as a pauper he had to let go of certainty to trade with a much austere and grueling phase. Only when he was fighting the battles, he was able to realize the hardships of training as a warrior and serving in the Macedonian army. The Macedonian experience fortified his battle-unit strategies for winning the internal wars with a light yet strong army. When he became the King, in his princely life he appreciated the value of the education he had received, which was apparently impractical for a warrior. Kautilya had foreseen that but for Chandragupta it was more like connecting the dots. Finally when in the quest for higher knowledge, he renounced the princely life for a simple yet intense priestly life, he appreciated the value of scriptures and the teachings of spiritual stalwarts. 

Caprice and Collusion

Myriad delusions of caprice in a mortal's fabric of thoughts, more often than not, ensue quite a preemptive genre of inveteracy. Theories of devolution along with axioms of evolution, strike each other with an otherwise majestic potency, which is often too innate and perhaps even more incapable of rationalization. To the third eye, it might preserve a level of bizarre persistence, but to astrally insignificant one, its promises yet another inconsequential stride. Desires of malevolence with a precise level of benign thoughtlessness at times, constitute the nascent stage for an appetite for aberration. Thoughtfulness most certainly comes at a price, though abhorrence at times becomes priceless. And this is precisely where, the impact occurs. 

Akin to an antediluvian architectural elegance, the baroque framework of thoughts seem unprecedented.  A pandemonium of adversarial notions seem to populate the unusual vacuum in the speculative image of self. Benign or vitriolic, the attributive mechanism bestows a psychic realm. The cadence of notions often remits a transformational behavioral bug, perhaps even construed as whim. Neither does it have a beginning, nor does it have an end. Perhaps in it's pristine state it defies any interdependence with matter itself. The latency of a nascent state of emotional imbalance cannot have any other attribution rather than to itself. Creating, destroying and manifesting in variegated stripes of the rainbow, dissimulates with recurrence forestalling any certainty.

Impulse in other words serves as the pseudo-romantic force behind all creation, destruction and manifestation. Whether backed by light or darkness, coercion or persuasion, benevolence or malevolence, it's invocation remains largely unresponsive towards the nature of the force, unless countered by a force greater than itself. Disparate elements persistently ascribe towards theoretical expurgation with motive change of the nature of force-fields. Relativity seems to be the nature of the law of being itself, driving us crazy and our masters even crazier. Chaos seems to be one of the fragments of the puzzle with a feeble yet certain allusion to tranquility.