The happiness bubbled out of her chest; it could not be contained. She ran first to her husband, then to the stone carved as Krishna. He, too, felt the crush of love—so fierce he feared his heart might melt. Even the stone seemed to stir. The man collapsed in a corner, undone by love and experiencing a divine transformation.
The watchers looked on in joy, tinged with envy, longing for inclusion in that overflowing embrace. The ecstasy rose upward, poured outward, then descended again, shared with all around. Tears streamed without end in this moment of divine transformation and human guilt.
At last, Meera fell to the ground, exhausted. From her stillness, a celestial song arose—cutting, piercing, calling forth a grief so deep that tears welled anew. Then silence. Sacred. Slowly, the people withdrew, leaving the holy place in its isolation.
But the man felt something else. His mouth dried, his palms grew damp, his heart drummed like a war beat. Dread came with the first carcass he saw, then multiplied at the sight of a mound of bodies in a ditch. Panic, horror, insecurity—terror mounted until a voice within asked: What now? How has this happened? Another part of him questioned the divine transformation and the human guilt he felt so keenly.
And then Narasimha rose, mouth and body smeared with blood. A silent shriek tore through him. His legs weakened, his heart slowed, his mind dimmed. He fell.
Turning, he saw a face above him—half contempt, half concern. Both hung in that gaze, as if asking: What will you do now, having fallen?
The stick prodding his back, He woke with a hate so hot, he got up and put that sneering face down with one resounding punch, falling the man to the ground. It was his sneering manner and uncouth behaviour. Roger knew he was unnecessarily angry, and he could have killed the contemptible man. He shook his head; one fisticuff was enough. Having bathed and having cooled down, he went back to his cot and saw the man unconscious, his blood had bled. Suddenly concerned, he checked his pulse, nothing, he was dead,
His concern took the form of fear, and when the Police took him, he was resigned and curiously deflated.
He truthfully told the Police about the punch he had thrown, and then, after getting out of the bath, he found the person dead. The Police were convinced the doctor had told them it was likely an aneurysm about to burst. Later, Roger was released, the death having been attributed to an accident about to happen, and the police were sympathetic. Out of Jail, Roger was out of the job also, yet he didn’t feel frustration or even guilt. At this point, divine transformation and human guilt seemed intertwined. Human guilt had no more place in his heart. He walked through the bustling market, strangely, it was vacant for him; he was in a strange sense of vacuity. He walked automatically to a Property dealer, hired a room and fell asleep from exhaustion.
The next day, he sat for breakfast and found a newness in the market, a feeling that he had not had before. He saw shops that he had not seen, even the ones he was familiar with appeared as if new. He walked in a fugue till he came to the river. A man was taking his shoes off to dive into the river. He jumped straight, resurfaced after a while and raised his hand as if calling for help. Roger kept on watching amidst a transformation taking place within him. This was a moment of divine transformation and human guilt. After a while, he knew the man was dead; he was a good swimmer himself. He went under a tree and lit himself a cigarette.
He walked till the sea, and in that vacuous moment, he carefully marked the corals, and in an undisturbed tide, he went swimming one last time.
His body was found on third day; he had found his love.
Comments
3 responses to “Meera and Man who fell”
Dark, yes. But there will be a follow up morning. Here comes the sun… (Beatles).
Here comes the Sun!
[…] were dead. Nobody knew how she fitted into the equation; her references were sometimes all dead. She was like that cell which at a point did the single task of existing, tolerated and forgotten. […]