Lightning

Mountains

The Pir Panjal Mountain Range, Kullu, Himachal Pradesh.
[Image by Jagriti Rumi]

What are the mountains saying that doesn’t reach me?

Nothing.


Sun kissed peaks, every hour of every day, shattering time moving in the round clocks, but not the colossal movement, the mountains hide what secret from me?

I’ll measure it, treasure it, capture it once and for all, weigh it well, dissect and familiarise, worship and sell without expectations. Tell me, what is it?

Nothing.

Don’t lie!

I’ll climb and conquer again, I’ll dig and extract again, I’ll create tunnels and pin cables, hang lights and find roads, I’ll race up and down and charge tickets, smart tools are enough to overpower, smartly I move, watch me.


Alas! Ages pass by and you rejoice in stillness while I struggle and fight with no one but myself. In the search of an answer, I have walked past the question always, watch me as I do it again, watch me as I fall.


Watching… Dear mountains, you have watched it all, the movement, steadily you have participated, participated fully… is that it, then? Erosion also doesn’t bother, nor does dying, mixing in dirt, letting the wind take you away in bits.

Evening hour, The Pir Panjal Mountain Range.
[Image by Jagriti Rumi.]

Dear mountains, you don’t speak of love, yet your beauty does. You play with the sky, clouds and lightning.

Not tethered to a window, you see the full picture, and breathe the fresh air, and live… live not as the word ‘live’ explains, dictates, guides, forces, blesses, teaches, restricts, warns, and shouts telling us how to… but simply you do. And for that you need…

Nothing.


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So Far

Short Feature
Two Worlds.
Image by – Jagriti Rumi.

I feel I am all alone in the two worlds. 

Taking a step forward I see lightning as ‘the fast’ meets ‘the slow’. I am not injured; I can endure the lightning but not the confusion.  

A beautiful path lights up as far as the mind can reach. Back and forth between a one-way; crashing becomes a certainty.

Quietly, I sit alive in the present.  

I am understandably forgetful. Myriad revelations slip away like a childhood memory, leaving behind a warm aftertaste. The warmth turns into a glow and the rest I forget.  

Infinity captured in a cage seeps away slowly. It is destined to do so. The two worlds are pulsating with this thought and I, in both.  

But there is only one reality in me. The cube burns into a cylinder and the cylinder burns into a sphere.

The shapes finally unite and the two worlds are annihilated.


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