Aspirations

Disoriented, dejected I am on an unknown strange journey. The winning fire in the pit of my stomach has long been extinguished. I am no longer fiercely competitive and incisive the way I was in my earlier days. I have resigned to my destiny. I have no ambitions left and mind you I am only thirty-six. I am still to earn the badge of renunciate, the one which you get on formal initiation by a Guru.

Begin your story with action, they teach you in creative writing courses. But how can I start my story with an action, when I have dropped all my actions, aspirations and attachments one by one. Who am I? A man with no extraordinary achievements to flaunt of. A banker who was bad at selling the allied products like mutual funds and life insurance. A lover, who walked out of a relationship. Or just a seeker, who is fairly irregular with his spiritual practice. The questions continue to pop-up and the answers as always are evading.

Resting my back against the wall of the twelfth century rock temple, with my blue duffel bag stuffed with all my belongings lying next to me, I view the expanse of river Narmada. Omkareshwar temple is the main attraction for the pilgrims and this Brahma temple is deserted, providing me the much needed solace. The surging water with bluish hue of Narmada is swashing and demonstrating its rebellious in nature. While all other rivers traverse from west to east, Narmada defects the norm and sprints in the opposite direction. Breaking the norm comes for a price, and I have already paid the price.

I close my eyes and start concentrating on my breath. The moment I drop my breath, another one enters my nose with ebullition, akin to my thoughts, no sooner I drop one another crops up. I am supposed to concentrate on the breath and just ignore all the thoughts.

That is when two villagers enter the precincts of the temple through the wrought iron gate. I hear the gong, the clap and the chatter that accompanies pilgrims. They come near me, offer a namaste and ask me whether I read palms. 'No, I don't. I am just an ordinary man like you.' I say. The older of the two bows in reverence and says that it is my humility that I am not acknowledging my own powers. I smile at their innocence and for a moment I am worried about them. These gullible rustics will fall prey to some charlatan, who will fleece them of their hard earned money in exchange of some imitation stone, promising them that it holds miraculous powers. But I put a break to the chain of my thoughts and again concentrate on my breath. I don't wish to get entangled into anything, even if it is for a just cause. Fortunately the villagers leave soon and I am reabsorbed into my sadhana. 

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