december 13 2001
The sun sets across the ocean. But its light doesnít reach him, that boy in the mountain. His ragged clothing soaked with impurities looked like anguish but the sun ignores him, and acts with indifference. She left him in the void of light, in the darkness of the meandering gloomy night. But he persevered, running, with the young child cradled in his arms.
As he hikes up higher the wind blows colder, wrenched with exhaustion, he shivered and trembled but the sun still acts with indifference. And as he notices, the wind remains apathetic too. They are empty of care. And they would stay so. But he isnít and as long as he still hears the beat of his pulse, heíll continue to run.
But why? The thought had almost slipped away from his mind.
There was a mother that he bumped into. And her eyes twinkled with helplessness that glimmered like gems of fantasy.
She begged ďPlease bring my baby to the Song of the Rain. Have mercy, have mercyÖ. .. before itís you late. . . before itís too late.Ē The woman collapsed. He later found out that the woman was being chased after, by whom? He didnít know. And why? He didnít know.
For no apparent reason a sudden urge inflicted him to take responsibility of the motherless child.
And thatís how he commenced to run. To where? He didnít know. Then under the atmosphere of dust and tension he reached this place. A place where it was so bleak that no one could see its end. Where the sky looked like twilight even at noon. Where the singularity of the water drops invades the sanity of the mind. And its sound gives an enigmatic question that only the power of imagination can suggest a possible answer.
He closed his eyes and only then that he saw quite clearly along with the rust, the filth, staleness, and stench, was the anxiety of all the vacancy that he didnít now. A flash of blinding light collided with everything and nothing and it rusted his world of pretension. Then he eased his eyes open and dimness was back. He realized that he had not halted from running. And the child was still clasped in his support.
He moved swiftly and it appeared as if it was his surroundings were what which were moving. He screamed out his grief but its supremacy was drowned by the blaring din of his scorching heart. He tried again but the dance of the trees silenced it and nobody heard.
The chirping songs of the birds gradually fainted to nothingness. The sun had completely left the world. He consistently ran, the childís skin still buried in his fingers.
The child never cried during the whole journey, but now he did. This was because he felt the weakness of his muscles, the hunger of his empty stomach, and the frozen coolness of his skin. Perhaps, itís plausible that he also might have felt the absence of hope. But the one cradling his arms joined his grief, and started to weep as well, He felt all these emotions too, but he didnít cry for such reasons. He wept because he feared that he could no longer save the child. He no longer cared about himself.
And that was only when he realized that he didnít know what the heck The Song of the Rain was. He whispered softly to the childís ear, ďThereís only ounces of pain need to endure dear, we are getting nearerĒ And he wondered if this was true.
He continued running underneath the sky of dust. The constancy of tensionís force never ceased to motivate him. He was surrounded by guilt, the guilt of a shattered promise. He didnít understand each and everything. He didnít understand. He couldnít understand.
He glimpsed at the child he carried. He looked so placid and soundless amidst all these noise and haste. His eyes were closed. And his chest no longer signified any signs of motion.
For one splitting sensation he wished that the abolishment of time because it held no significance anymore. All the emotions he hid and the tears inside unleashed themselves. He hoped the child knew he tried. Then between this world and eternity he questions the authenticity of God and his reverence to Him.
He laid the motionless body of the child in the shade of the nearby tree. As the dawn began to break the earliest sunrays tried to appease his exhausted eyes and warmth commenced to settle at his core. He let the gentle zephyr pushed his tired self into the rough earth where he continued breathing. The birds began to chirp loudly and gaily again. The clouds circled across the horizon and the droplets of liquid began falling to the ground and to his dirty flesh.
He closed his eyes once again and listened. And at that moment all pain vanished.
And across that vast distance between him and everything else, time ceased. He thought he heard the Song of the Rain but perhaps it was just only the signal of a ferocious typhoon coming.
[12.13.2k1 || Rain Song|| Mithi. ] 6.5