Kosi, me and the Kairos by Ninad Parikh SignUp
Boloji.com

Channels

In Focus

 
Analysis
Cartoons
Education
Environment
Opinion
Photo Essays
 
 

Columns

 
A Bystander's Diary
Business
Random Thoughts
 
 

Our Heritage

 
Architecture
Astrology
Ayurveda
Buddhism
Cinema
Culture
Festivals
Hinduism
History
People
Places
Sikhism
Spirituality
 
 

Society & Lifestyle

 
Health
Parenting
Perspective
Recipes
Society
Teens
Women
 
 

Creative Writings

 
Book Reviews
Computing
Ghalib's Corner
Humor
Individuality
Literary Shelf
Love Letters
Memoirs
Quotes
Stories
Travelogues
Workshop
 
 
Analysis Share This Page
Kosi, me and the Kairos
by Ninad Parikh Bookmark and Share

The stage was set, characters were defined and audience was introduced. I was the audience. And the show was to commence.

The curtains of twilight were raised to give way to the uncanny fraternization of subtle darkness and silken moonlight. The homecoming of the birds was suggestive to the fact that it was time to return to the place where I belonged. The place, the state of life where ecstasy thrives. The place where one loses oneself and in the process reclaims the divinity of the moment!

Everything in the vicinity seemed to be interwoven. The water conversing with the stones underneath, the wind, whispering in the ears of the skyscraping trees, the mountains shaking hands with the horizon, the misting of moonlight on the earth and the aura of the moment!

I was contemplating the phenomenal swiftness with which the birds were dramatizing their acrobatics in the animated firmament. The freedom they luxuriate bequeaths them with the ardor to speed up, the ebullience to live on and fly away to the resplendent glory.

Just then, a bird parked itself along side me on a hulking stone. He gaped candidly into my eyes without any human phobia in his eyes. I was surprised not at the fearlessness but at the calmness he flaunted. He seemed to be sure of enduring till I utter something.
 
But I felt as if I had been talking to him for ages and knowing him for eternity. There was no obligation to be prim and ask him about his identity on this earth/sky!

I eventually asked him, “How does it feel to harmonize with this timeless aura of creativity?” He looked at me with unaltered tranquility as if he had expected such a question from me. He panned his sight towards the horizon and after a few prolonged moments, replied, “Mate, One always belongs to his own creation!”

I was astonished not because of the unfathomable answer but what overwhelmed me was the ease with which he addressed me as a Mate. “One always belongs to his own creation”, I said that to myself and kept saying that for a while.
“What do you mean to say, have you fashioned this aura?”
“Partially true.”
“So you are suggesting that you have been instrumental in creating a quantum of this aura….”
“Absolutely. Even you are a part of the same.”

That couldn’t exactly give me the sense of belonging I was craving for, but did raise a flutter of hope within my mind that I am still there. I asked him, “Can you elaborate on your and specifically my role in this unimaginable creation?”

“Well, there is no single entity that has scripted this aura and painted this panoramic picture. We all make it happen. We all are doing what we are best at and incidentally everything converges in a distinguished moment. A moment that lives for a life time. A moment that paints you in happiness and fills you with a perpetual sense of belonging. I am an avian. I have taken birth to fly. I live because I fly. And when I fly I fly with such pride and zest that this world falls in love with my flight. That’s the partial aura I am referring to.”

“But how do I become a part of this…what have I accomplished?”

“Before some moments you would have felt that the mountains are shaking hands with the horizon…the winds are whispering something in the ears of those tall trees….That was a surreal feeling you created. Mate, the mountains don’t shake hands with horizon. It’s the perception you sculpture in your heart that transposes it into a prodigious entourage. You were the creator of that moment when you heard the whispers of wind. Now you will write about the magical feeling, the perennial happiness and the worth of this life. You will spread the aura. You have taken birth to spread this aura. You are an instrument that will create music and sing the soulful songs of the unending happiness.”

He winged away into the panorama and left me blessed with pleasure. The pleasure of being instrumental. The pleasure of being a part of this life. And I promised myself… ‘I will write about and celebrate a festival. A festival called life.’

(Kosi is a river flowing from Nepal to India and is known as the “sorrow of Bihar”…despite of being a lot unregulated and posing a threat to human life, it still remains beautiful.
Kairos….signifies the moment of truth…the opportune moment…the time when God acts!)
 

Share This:
16-Jan-2011
More by :  Ninad Parikh
 
Views: 1629      Comments: 0




Name *
Email ID
 (will not be published)
Comment
Characters
Verification Code*
Can't read? Reload
Please fill the above code for verification.
 
Top | Analysis



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2018 All Rights Reserved
 
No part of this Internet site may be reproduced without prior written permission of the copyright holder
.