Surendra Gautam
Dukhiram was brooding over his being. His ill thoughts were bargaining with his existence. He felt sluggish with the burden of dissatisfactions. The sweats never ransomed his plight. He faced a dreadful past, lived an uncertain present, and didn’t concern about the dreary future. His predicament bespeaks by what he wears, what he eats, and where he resided. His tattered attires with years of sweats release the strong stench. He looks tired and exhausted. But his physical tiredness underpins his mental tiredness and disappointment. Dukhiram lied on the floor. The floor was covered with lime and weeds. The ruined house wasn’t weeded for years. The cold was like piercing the heart. However, after hours of struggle, he finally dozes off. He starts dreaming.
His dream led him across the temple, church, and monastery. He went through the deep pine forest, crossed the river. He climbed upstairs and got on the lawn where cows were grazing. Goats were caressing their kids. Dukhiram sat on the ground, observe the tides of the river, and inhale the fresh air. He felt as if he was healed by the melodious chirping sounds of birds. He felt as if he was immersed into nature’s lap, in the heavenly adobe. The solitude made him intoxicated. He was in complete amnesia.
Dukhiram lied on the lawn. He inspects the galaxies. A thought of space travel glued his mind. Mean a while; he saw a sparkling light descending from the galaxy. The light gradually plunged to the earth. Finally, it transforms into a very charming and beautiful angle. He was stunned by this incident. He could only gaze at her in astonishment. Her appearance was quite a grandeur and magnificence. Her shiny smiley face with miraculous physical shape stupefies him. He was quite perplexed by an unimaginable and sudden presence of an angle. Her body was covered by different precious jewels and ornaments. Dukhiram found her the same as he used to see in the pictures, statues, and idols of the goddess. He silently gazed over her.
An Angle broke the silence and inquired, “How are you, Weary Soul?” He was bewildered by this mysterious event. He straightened and spoke, “Holy Goddesses! Could I know to whom I am talking? Who… who are you?”
“Name is just a symbol. A denomination is mere a tag.” She smiled and continued, forget who I am. My concern is only about your weariness. I know you are restless and alone from inside. You looked sad and stressed. What made you so desperate?
“It’s my destiny. I am starving, not for food but salvation, the salvation from nothingness, salvation from my plight. My soul had faced ages of thirst. And, my thoughts couldn’t heed on my beings.” Dukhiram’s sorrows erupted like a volcano. “
“No diligent person is poor. Pessimism is the root of decadence. Don’t be overwhelmed by unfavorable circumstances. Time will heal every wound. So believe in your hard work.” An angel replied philosophically.
If hard work had another name, it would be Dukhiram. If there is one thing that heals the wound is prosperity. The satisfaction, which Dukhiram couldn’t realize, is the mirage of every mankind. Time, which differential is always in equilibrium to each people doesn’t seem to have unprejudiced. Dukhiram reckons all the ins and outs of his predicaments. He sketched the hierarchical spatial-social equilibriums based on his assumptions. An angle examined the conscience of Dukhiram and enunciates, “Why can’t you introspect within? The adamantine desires leveled up your satisfaction, success, and happiness.
Mysterious Angle! “? How could I weigh down my helplessness?” Dukhiram asked her.
Angle chuckles and replied, “Poor Sad Soul! Pure hope and belief can beguile one’s perfect life. But the insatiable hunger for prosperity let you be lecherous and selfish. Remember, all living beings have their way of living. All seek happiness and satisfaction. You must seek happiness and satisfaction in trivial things. Examine the happiness in the melodious chirping of birds, in the tides of the rivers, in the blowing of the wind. Inspect the ants, their commitment, and diligence. Observe the caterpillars’ unending effort to climb the wall. Think of the plant’s buds, its growth, and its decadent and judge life from an existential point of view. Live for tomorrow since tomorrow is a hope. Remind of the happiest moments you have ever felt. Remind of your refreshment when your child smiles with joy after you caress. Satisfaction is not the ball of all courts. It escaped all the time and we raced to get it back. But, it always has a slippery nature. Never give up your hope, move according to your will to pierce the dreadful phantom.”
Dukhiram looks perplexed. He stared at her eyes and asked, “Why didn’t I find peace in life? What is happiness?”
“You didn’t understand. Until you run after satisfaction, you wouldn’t find peace in life. Satisfaction is merely a momentary thing. It is like air into a balloon. You wouldn’t hold it unless you open the entrance of your balloon. The art of adjustment is the way of happiness. It seems philosophical, but it is true. Your awe-inspiring commitment to being is happiness. You are alive, alert, and concerned. You need to be happy because you are fitted to this earth’s cycle. Those who couldn’t be adapted to the labyrinthine of nature have already vanished. You are rare, you struggle for being, and you contribute to others’ beings. Isn’t it a cause of happiness? “
Dukhiram rested for a while with a deep sigh and put a question to an angle, “What is an asset?”
An angel chuckles and replied, “The most precious assets you’ll ever have in your life is the love of your family, the support of your family even in the harsh time.”
Holy Devi! What is life? Dukhiram again put a query to an angle.
“It is not only clinging to hope. It is a quintessential gift of nature. If you carved it artistically, you exist; if you didn’t then you are done for. It is a rhythm.” An angle disappears and her sound was echoed out of the rock. Dukhiram sought her for minutes. He looked into the sky. There was a well-illuminated light slowly sinking onto the Milky Way. Mean a while, he heard a sound. The sound was clear and weighty. It’s said, “Life is a compromise, Hope is a vehicle, and satisfaction is a mirage. Thus, act your part in nature. One day the life’s episode will be aired into ashes.” The light then transforms into the star and vanishes into the blanket of fog. The thunder stroke hit the earth and started raining.
The thunder awoke Dukhiram. There was heavily raining outside. He found himself in his dilapidated hut. He got up from the bed. His life race continued with the rise of the sun. It was a race of individual survival, a race to lead an adjusted and compromised life. Dukhiram hurried to the street like a wind.
[Surendra Gautam is a Nepali poet from Baglung. He is a teacher by profession.]