A CASTLE WITH 16 ROOMS : AT KIBBER & HEMIS FIRST

1:1 BORN AGAIN

Ngubu was always enchanted by the Purohit’s scimitar. As much as the Purohit was. He took great delight in taking it off the gem-studded sheath just to run his fingers on the smooth sharp blade edge. Twisting and brandishing it against the sun created exciting sparkling shine stars on the castle walls. He hung the scimitar in the sheath, in the side straps hung on the wall. The Monk was the name Purohit used to send for the sword. He always kept the Monk near his diwan when on a political meet of the committee. Never else!

“You dread Death so much! And want to be born again?”

Chuckled the Purohit in a schmooze with innocent little Ngubu. His pre Sandhya Vandanam prayers talk.

The Purohit was attempting to unriddle, what was to Ngubu, a silent desire. A wish to get rid of his present miseries and to be the one with all the blessings, which he now learnt, were probable to acquire. And hope for!

Ngubu looked puzzled. After all we all fear death. “I am sure sans the bravado the Purohit does too!” Or so he thought. “Mine can’t be a state of dread!”

“See, to cherish a dream…to be born again...you first have to learn to court death! And not dread it. It is a prerequisite, a rule of life…die first!!”

The Purohit interrupted his wisdom laughing as also throwing his head back, on seeing the confused look on innocent Ngubu’s face.

“Though, be patient!” continued the Purohit. “Let the events arrive and unfold at their anointed time. For if you push a wish against its pre-ordained hour, you may not savor the joys its fruits beget! Probably the joys you sought in the first place. They may not unbundle along with the blessing. Be warned! This is the law of nature. Time and timing is the norm of life.”

“Remember, for a blessing to be savored you have to prepare the receptacle first. To take in the new we have to empty the vessel first. Unrid its waste. Caringly empty to create space. Yes...empty, but not discard the previous as refuse! If in haste you act violently, you may disturb the harmony in which the receptacle gives and receives. And exists. But yes, empty you must if you want a fresh fill!”

“Now give me the sandals I should take to the stairs for the prayers O Ngubu!”

“My master the logic you explain has always cleared any quiz web that cobbed my mind. I know logic alone is the light I should reach for when confused.” Thus spoke Ngubu while placing the Purohits sandals near his feet.

“Yes. Logic is compelling and convincing.” Mused Ngubu. “Like in the past when I asked you if there is God, you narrated the story of the carpenter who asked you thus!”

“Yes! I do recall the carpenter and his predicament” smiled the Purohit remembering the tale he had told him.

The carpenter was not convinced of the almighty, the ultimate creator who keeps us wheeling in perfect step and harmony with his tune. I pointed towards the furniture he had recently finished working on.

“So who made this?” I asked him.

The carpenter nonplussed by the question, winced in his hunch. Embarrassed! Yet blushing with pride at the unexpected recognition.

“Your blessings my lord…! I am just a craftsman.”

“So behind each craft there is a craftsman. Right?” implored I.

“Yes.”

“Similarly would you not credit our Lord for this fine piece of craft or creation that is man? And why even our beautiful world wouldn’t come to shape but for some craftsman. A creator!”

The carpenter unfolded his arms from around his knees. Understanding in a fervent surge of realization that his doubts were misplaced and his expression of them haughty, he immediately rose to first bow and in the same step fell prostrate seeking forgiveness for his doubting timidity. “Timid that I am I could not read the obvious logic.”

“No, it does not answer your question here. A logically arrived solution is never a conclusive answer. That is why we suffer in its maze and in disbelief!

With the same logic I should be asking next…who created the creator? And the question could be an endless adventure.

 No! Logic is rubbish. It only has answers for the obvious. The furniture.

For the world beyond, the answers are within you. In your belief…faith…and trust. The believer thus concludes far more easily. He moves in action with hope, the fuel of life! Logic stops much short in the same journey. Confused when it does not conclude. It is our belief that keeps us moving even when logic does not justify the odds of life!

Have faith O Ngubu! We all would be born again…and yet again. As also we would die. In betwixt, we have a purpose!”

The bells in the pier atop the castle disturbed the discourse. The Purohit arose and fitting his sole into his wooden sandals, reached for the flower-offering tray and his crow-hooked stick. It took him 24 steps in one stair fly to reach the perch where he met his master twice a day.

“More in the new day Ngubu.” The Purohit left after blessing his pupil.

Or so he thought.           

 

                                                                   A story by DK Sabharwal,  CEO,  abacus.

Concept, Layout & Design, Anindita Nath, M.A. Psychology, Delhi.

Content Research, Shivangi Shukla, M.A. Psychology, Delhi.

“Characters make a story. It in turn is told with an intent and purpose. Thus, the characters are purposive. Or each purposive story has such intentful characters. Ngubu was one for sure. We know. You would learn.”

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