Zara's Witness

by Shubhrangshu Roy

  Once in a while, a cool breeze swept by the banks at dusk or dawn, but there was no sign of water raining down from the sky or rushing down in a torrent from the mountaintop.

  The bells had long stopped ringing. And so had the conch shells. No more lamps in leaf cups floated down to where Zara sat, by the bank.

  The glow-worms, too, were mostly gone, but for an occasional visitor at dusk.

  The gemstones atop the Peacock Ridge still glistened by night, but the dazzle atop the Moonshine Mount was gone. Somehow, in the barren emptiness of their surroundings, they seemed to be robbed of glamour. The action or whatever there was to it, seemed to have shifted to the metro, far, far away beyond the ridge, where the dazzle of the night gave way to the despair of morn with clockwork precision. And creatures gathered under the glittering city lights, in dark and foreboding alleys, under drainpipes and in the gutters, under beds and washbasins, routinely fumigated out of their dens and trampled under a thousand feet in their grim battle for survival.

  Thus, day made way for night and night made way for morn, with little sign of hope, when, suddenly, one morning the bees sent out a buzz, abandoning their hive, and rushing towards the bank.

  ‘She’s coming, she’s coming, O Rivah!’ they cried. ‘Word’s reached us from the top that the river is on its way to the bank.’

  Zara, napping under the peepul tree, woke up to the excitement stirred by the bees. She looked around to find the swarm rushing to the bank as their buzz grew louder and louder.

  And as the drone came nearer, the sky turned dark, just as it had several summers ago when she first sat by the river after falling off her bubble and hopping to the shore. And she heard the familiar croak as she rushed across the promenade to the steps below, taking one step at a time.

  ‘Come down fast, Zara,’ the frog croaked aloud. ‘The river is on its way.’

  ‘Sure, I’m on my way, too, Froggy,’ she laughed.

  Down there on the steps, Zara found herself an absolutely wonderful spot to sit, anticipating the depth of the river’s flow past the bank. There, she worked herself to a perfect posture as questions raced through her mind.

  ‘What should I ask Rivah!?’ Zara wondered.

  And as she reflected, she told herself, ‘Actually, I have come to the bank with absolutely nothing to talk about. It’s been a long summer and I do not even have the headspace to learn something new. I first need to absorb all that Rivah! taught me all these years and carry on with life. I should have possibly stayed back under the peepul tree to contemplate on what I should do next.’

  And Zara sat there and thought and thought and thought. And she told herself not to worry. After all, she had climbed down the steps to satiate the lust of her eyes, to watch the river up close after a long dry spell. And as she sat there thinking hard, she began to unclutter her mind.

  The creatures, too, had begun to pack the steps by now, closing in on Zara, as one jabbed her legs into her side and another crammed her from the other end, making her uncomfortable.

  And as she sat in her perfect upright posture, shoulders erect, just like the lizard, Zara closed her eyes, raised her head skywards, breathed deeply, and chanted, ‘Give up, give up, give up!’

  And thus, she went on, when midway, she was overcome by pain, brought about by the constant irksome pushing and shoving from the crawlies crowding about her. Yet, Zara resolved to carry on, sitting erect, her eyes shut tight.

  And while she carried on with her stubborn resolve to continue sitting upright, her focus began to waver before the vacant altar of the long-lost river.

  And so, sooner than she had presumed, Zara almost pleaded with herself to be relieved of her self-inflicted pain.

  ‘There’s no point sitting in meditation. It leads nowhere,’ came a voice from above. The dragonfly was hovering overhead. Zara finally abandoned her thoughts. Her pain growing rapidly, she was overwhelmed by the urge to quit without getting to meet the river. If anything restrained her from quitting, it was the thought of standing up and walking out in front of so many other creatures and the very real possibility of trampling several of them under her feet.

  ‘What if I hurt them? That would be catastrophic. Would I also expose my arrogance? Would I be subject of scorn?’ The questions ran helter-skelter through her mind.

  Whatever engaging conversation she might have had set herself for the river, now seemed distant in the chaos by the bank.

  So, Zara consoled herself. ‘Pain leads to gain,’ she reasoned, ‘I need to get back my focus.’

  And even as she spoke to herself, inventing one excuse after another only to hang around, the grasshopper broke the silence in the anti-climax of the moment.

  ‘It will still be a while before the river arrives by the bank.

  There’s no point hanging on.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Zara sighed, looking around. There was no sign of anguish on a single face. Instead, the creatures seemed to let off a collective sigh of relief. All this while, millions of them had shared Zara’s agony, waiting anxiously for the river. Zara climbed up to the promenade, marvelling at the river’s evasive power, anticipating the mass discomfort of so many creatures in her wait.

  ‘Was that telepathy or a mere coincidence?’ Zara wondered, taken in by the river’s unanticipated absence.

  Back on the promenade, the frog introduced her to one of the builder ants. Excited, Zara asked the ant to interpret her feelings.

  ‘O Zara! What I have learnt from the river in all these years is that there is really nothing to learn. What you still get to learn is: “I am what I am.”’

  ‘We are prone to fret and fume about our unfulfilled desires, like anticipating the flow of the river. Yet, all that we see around, dear Zara, all this creation, is the creation of energy that actually resides in you and me and manifests as our imagination first. This Universe, Zara, is the creation of our several desires. It is the product of our energy in motion. And when our imagination flounders, we feel sapped of energy.’

  ‘What’s energy?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Energy is that that makes us go. It’s either dormant or in motion. Nobody can see that energy. We can only feel it.’

  ‘I can understand energy in motion, it happens with me all the time as I sit by the river and imagine. And then, move to make things happen. But how do I recognise energy when it’s asleep?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Well, if you recognise one, you can recognise the other. When it sleeps, the river stops its flow,’ the ant replied.

  ‘When no desire, no movement in this world of yours arouses your passion, your energy, then, is dormant. There is no distress. There is no pain. And that state of emptiness, when there is no passion, no pain, no joy, is the state of bliss,’ the ant went on.

  ‘Bliss, Zara, is a state of no feeling.’

  ‘But I always get excited,’ said Zara.

  ‘I understand,’ said the ant. ‘It is one thing to get excited, but it’s quite another to arouse yourself to a state of euphoria. That happens when your movement comes devoid of physical sensation.’

  ‘I have felt such a state once in a while,’ Zara told the ant. ‘When my world moves by vigorously by the bank. And I just sit and watch.’

  ‘That’s right, it happens when your imagination works to such a stage, when you just let it be. It’s exactly the moment before a ripe fruit falls to the ground. That state is also called Ah!nandita,’ said the ant.

  ‘Do you mean those pink sandstone hills across the river?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Yes, Zara, have you felt the emptiness of the other bank of the river, while all the action takes place on this? That’s the state to be.’

  ‘Tell me how it works,’ Zara demanded.

  ‘I’m not quite sure of that. It’s just . . . there,’ said the ant. ‘Some things just happen.’

  ‘I don’t believe that. You must be knowing,’ retorted Zara.

  ‘Do you feel the blood flow in your veins? Do you know what pumps your heart? Nobody
does. They happen. Every single day, every single moment of our lives wonderful things happen to us for which we have no explanation. All I know is that it happens because the energy that is within us is at work.’

  ‘So life just goes on,’ said Zara.

  ‘Yes, on and on and on, till it’s time to call it quits,’ said the ant. ‘That’s time for energy to get some sleep. And we rest in bliss.

  Energy, little girl, follows nobody’s command.’

  ‘So what?’ Zara shot back, looking visibly irritated.

  ‘Yeah, you are right. Except that I will teach you a little trick. You can watch the river flow and learn from its motions to manipulate the flow of your energy at all times. The creature that retains control over its energy and, therefore, its emotions, eventually controls its Universe, Zara. That’s what wisdom is all about.’

  ‘That’s fascinating. I will rule my own Universe one day,’ said Zara.

  ‘Yes, you will,’ said the ant. ‘Different creatures do different things to master their Universe. In the end, we need self-control to be happy at all times, not sad.’

  ‘I get it, dear Anty,’ smiled Zara. ‘You know what? All these years that I have been by the river, one thing’s repeatedly come to my mind—at any given point, we all keep standing on different landings on the staircase of life. Nobody quite knows where the staircase will eventually lead us to. But that doesn’t really matter; what does is the flexibility of the mind to be able to negotiate its different landings.’

  ‘Well said, Zara,’ the ant replied. ‘You have really arrived in life the day you accept everything coming your way with the same detachment, devoid of praise or remorse.’

  ‘I got it,’ yelled Zara.

  ‘Then you got bliss as well,’ said the ant. ‘Bliss is when you remember nothing. It’s when your creation becomes a series of moving images that don’t stop in time.’

  ‘Living in the moment, you mean?’ Zara asked.

  ‘Living in the moment, indeed,’ said the ant.

  It was to be a while before Zara would absorb the full import of her conversation with the ant. As they turned back from the bank, Zara wondered if she had seen the last of the river. And her excitement grew with time.

  Gradually, Zara was overcome by anxiety.

  The anxiety of what might be.

  What if Rivah! didn’t turn up again?

  CHAPTER 11

  That evening, Zara waited by the bank. The creatures, too, had come down at sundown. After a long, long break, the bells had started chiming in the distance. And slowly, the blow of conch shells filled the air. The glow-worms came in next, in ones and twos, and then, by the dozens. It had been a long and fruitless wait all day. But the creatures did not seem to give up on hope. The long, hot, and parched summer had made them anxious. Zara was no longer sure if the river would reappear.

  She had spent long successive summers by the riverbank now. But it hadn’t been so desperately hot before.

  Earlier, there had always been a stream, or a pool, or even a puddle, just as it had been the first year she had arrived. This year had been the worst. Not a drop to be seen around.

  And in all these years gone by, countless creatures had been enthralled by the river’s sheer depth.

  Zara had been a silent witness to the creatures’ cravings by the eastern bank. She had been a witness to pleading creatures, ecstatic creatures, and awestruck creatures rejoicing in the river’s abundance, though the river never seemed to get swayed by any single one of them.

  And as Zara sat there pondering, her mind was once more overcome by anticipation of what may come about. Just like that.

  Just about that time, Zara immersed herself in deep imagination of what might come about, she suddenly caught the lamps in leaf cups floating her way down the river. And on that crowded night she saw the river quietly reappear under the glare of the full moon night, in the dazzle of the Moonshine Mount and the glitter of the Peacock Ridge.

  ‘Welcome Rivah! Hurrah!’ the creatures rent the air, cheering at the sight of flowing water.

  ‘Welcome Rivah!’ Zara jumped up, excited.

  And the river silently crept up to the bank in a rapid swell, in an unimaginable expanse, her depth unfathomable. Rising, rising, rising!

  Zara was awestruck.

  ‘Awesome!’ she exclaimed as the river expanded in her mind.

  And the river rushed in as the creatures rose one by one, and in dozens, and hundreds, and thousands in standing ovation, chanting: ‘Hu va, hu va, hu va!’ meaning, splendid, splendid, splendid.

  And as she filled up her banks, the river broke her silence:

  There’s nothing to fear when you are in love. There’s nothing to fear when you are not in hate. There’s nothing to fear when you have nothing to prove.

  And then, the river asked, ‘What is it that keeps you unaware? The knower knows, they are aware within, never mind what your mind tells you. Just silence your turmoil within.’

  Zara was taken aback, even as more and more questions came calling, ‘If all one needs to do is look within, then why did all these creatures rush to the bank, as if in a mad scramble for survival?’ she asked herself.

  And in that silence, her mind opened up . . .

  ‘Most of these creatures are running away from themselves. It makes no difference whether they are here or not. Yet, most are here in search of peace, in search of tranquillity, and, therefore, in search of liberation from the bondage of their own buzz. Sadly, neither do they find permanent peace nor permanent liberation. And so, they keep coming again, and again, and again, in their elusive search to quench their thirst.’

  ‘You are right, Zara,’ the river paused a while where she sat.

  ‘Naked across my threshold all must pass.’

  And then, turning to the creatures, she said, ‘Most of you listen to your inner voice through one ear and take it out through the other, living this wise moment that comes from silent contemplation on my banks for as long as it lasts. It’s time you realised that what you contemplate upon now, dear creatures of this world, contemplate upon the same when you are gone from here, should you seek abiding joy. For when you listen to your voice, you are fulfilled.’

  ‘And what if you do?’ croaked the frog, adding, ‘Since the best way to disarm your opponent is not to make an appearance at all, it’s probably best to shut out the noise of your mind.’

  ‘So, who blinks first?’ Zara asked.

  ‘It’s your arrogance, not fear that makes you disappear,’ said the river.

  ‘So, who blinks first?’ Zara asked again.

  ‘You may switch off for a while when in mental or physical distress,’ the river went on, ‘or when in self-doubt. That’s when you look deep within. Spend more time with yourself to still your mind.’

  The river seemed to have read Zara’s mind on the go, anticipated her fears, and relieved her distress in the simplest words. Zara was amazed at her limitless depth.

  ‘Appear, disappear, reappear, just like me,’ the butterfly laughed.

  ‘But, unlike the caterpillar, don’t shut yourself from the outside world to transform from within,’ the river came back. ‘One day, you will know why. Don’t shut your mind and get into a trance. Rather, surmount every boulder that comes your way,’ the river said.

  ‘Reconcile your thoughts each day, dear Zara, to overcome the dilemmas of your mind,’ the frog butted in. ‘Make use of your knowledge and wisdom to carry on through life.’

  ‘Reflect, reflect, reflect within, as much as you reflect on me,’ said the river. ‘Work is wisdom, wisdom is work. Go, get working.’

  And then, she burst forth signing:

  Put your mind on even keel O boatman!

  It’s time to figure out Where your boat rests today

  Before you venture onwards.

  Put your mind on even keel O boatman!

  It’s time to figure out

  Your real destination

  Before you row on.


  Long, long ago, Zara had heard the river sing. The creatures joined in:

  . . . figure out

  Your real destination, O boatman!

  Before you row on.

  That night, when the creatures were gone, Zara sat back, reflecting on the day gone by. Then, raising her face to the moonlit sky, she whispered:

  You are my fear, and you are my joy. I am taken by your arrogance, your dignity, your compassion. O Rivah! Please guide me through the course of my life.

  Zara had given herself to the river completely. No questions asked.

  Unknown to her, the frog had heard Zara. At once, he hopped on her lap, goading her to talk her heart out to the river.

  Zara thought . . . and thought . . . and thought.

  CHAPTER 12

  It was midnight. The full moon gleamed overhead. There was a pleasant calm by the bank. Zara stood up, and said:

  Dear Rivah!,

  I came to your bank many moons ago, riding your wave in my arrogance, in the bubble of my imagination. I was an infant then. And one day, my bubble burst, exposing me to the rigours of life. Today, I am in my fullness, just as it is with the moon and just as it is with you after such a long, dry spell.

  I have enjoyed every moment here by your bank, learning all I could about the meaning of life from you, but I need to learn lots more. Froggy gave me company during these eventful years, interpreting the various nuances of your flow.

  He has been a friend, philosopher, and guide.

  I have told this to Froggy, and I’ll tell you this: my arrogance came from the absence of fear in my mind and my eagerness to probe. It also came from my ability to renounce.

  Give up, give up, give up!

  My arrogance never came from my inheritance, which, I had none. I am sure you are aware of this. Every time I sat by your bank, I learnt something new. And yet, there was nothing new in whatever you said. There can be no greater learning than this. You taught me to fear the vastness of your expanse, which is also the vastness of my imagination. You taught me to fear the infinity of self. And then, you taught me to overcome my fear by submerging myself in my reflection in you.