My motorcycle was surrounded by sheer darkness and mist. The territory of inky clouds was expanding swiftly and the chilly turbulent winds were doing their best to devour every iota of heat from my body. My tough, insulated jacket, that had been my faithful companion for years, was no match for that arctic atmosphere. Roars of the enraged wind-god from the upper atmosphere strongly indicated the arrival of downpour. It was near mid-night and my motorcycle was creeping forward. At that pace I would have reached my destination in a century.
I realized that it had not been a good idea to travel to another city at night but it was too late now; I couldn’t turn back. I had covered too much distance. I was an employee at a travelling agency and I often had to make such trips at odd times but this trip was proving to be a hell of a lot different.
Within no time rain started and I had never seen such a fast rain in my life. It was as if God had opened a shower and turned the knob to full blast. And at that ungodly hour something happened to my motorcycle. After a few coughs, its engine went cold.
“Damn it!” I kicked in frustration. If I didn’t find any shelter soon, I was going to be dead meat; chilled dead meat!
Drenched with despair and rainwater, I looked for some means of unexpected help; and I found one. I spotted a dim light at some distance. Taking my beloved motorcycle with me, I practically ran towards the source of light.
As I came nearer, I saw that it was a bus stop. There was only one bench and it wasn’t empty: a girl, most probably in her mid-twenties, was occupying one of its sides. In a normal situation, I might have kept standing but in that stormy weather I decided to throw courtesy to the winds.
“If you don’t mind, can I share this bench?” I requested, followed by a chatter of my teeth, making my request a thousand times more pitiable.
She flashed a queer smile and replied, “Yes, it would be a pleasure. I was waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me?” I repeated her words as I sat on the opposite end. “I don’t even know you. And how did you know I was coming?”
“I wouldn’t say the same about you. The wind and the rain told me about your arrival,” she said and stretched her arm, bringing her hand into the realm of rain. The droplets struck her hand and she smiled and this time it produced a melancholic effect.
“It’s strange many people never understand the messages in the rain. So much power yet unnoticed. It’s a pity; it’s a pity,” her words were akin to a whisper.
I listened to her ambiguous words but said nothing. I observed her in more detail: she was clad in a black caftan, which certainly couldn’t have provided a bit of protection from the cold but the glacial winds didn’t seem to bother her. Her head was covered with an embroidered scarf but a few strands of her hair, which were peeping out, were of reddish-brown tint. And her eyes were blue, blue like the sea. And her lips were pink, without the cover of lipstick.
Suddenly I felt as if the cerebro-spinal fluid in my brain was replaced by a curiosity-fluid.
“Ah, who are you and what are you doing here at this time of night?” I somehow found the courage to ask her.
She laughed lightly; it was like someone had struck the strings of a musical instrument.
“Who am I? Now how should I answer this question! If you are asking about my name, well, I had one but it was such a long time ago. I have forgotten it.” She smiled and paused for a moment.
“As far as your second question is concerned, I have already told you that I’m here to meet you.” I felt her penetrating gaze focus on me.
“Sorry, I don’t understand. You talk in such a complex way,” the last words sounded like a protest. She again emanated a melodious laughter.
“I should have known,” her tone indicated as if I had some problem and she understood it.
“Known what?”
“Known that your mind cannot comprehend such things,” she touched her own head with her finger and this time I laughed.
Although her identity was still hidden in clouds of mystery, I decided to carry the conversation on.
“So why do you want to meet me?”
“Frankly speaking, I am unaware of the specific purpose myself but I think I have to assign you some kind of a job.”
“And what is that job?”
“That I am not supposed to tell,” again that strange smile crept on her lips.
After a brief pause I again initiated the talk.
“Would you mind if I ask you your age?”
Her laughter made my heart vibrate with an odd shade of happiness.
“Your concept of age mostly revolves around the physical aspect but age is more than that. The age of your mind or the age of your soul is different from the age of your body. You may be surprised to know that I am a lot older than I seem to be.”
“You are no ordinary human, are you?” I asked in a serious tone and perhaps it was this tone which compelled her to give a straight-forward answer.
“In a sense, no,” she replied. “Perhaps, you have heard about the spiritual cycle. I belong to that.”
I had heard something about that somewhere, but I couldn’t remember where. Maybe, I just knew it. Maybe, it had been in my unconscious the day I was born.
“I think so,” I said.
“It’s a higher stage of a life; the next step in the evolution of your mind and soul. When you enter it, you can feel that you have become something better than you were before; you no longer remain a ‘slave,’” She explained.
“Well, if all the people in the world were to become ‘saints’ like you people, wouldn’t it just disrupt the whole system,” I questioned.
“Yes, it would be a disaster if they could; but they can’t. Not everyone can enter this cycle. Only few people have the strength and the potential. Ordinary people can’t enter, nor do we want them to. Its better for all of us that they remain what they are.” “Can I be a part of it?”
“As far as I know, no, you can’t. You are too much attached with this world but you are special in a way because you have been chosen for a responsibility; it’s a rare gift for ordinary men.”
“Chosen by whom? And what responsibility?”
“It’s better that you do not know. It was hard for me to believe at first but some secrets should remain secrets. It would do nothing but harm if they are revealed.”
I decided to utilize this opportunity to ask some questions. “There are so many questions for which I have no answers and the foremost amongst them is: what is our purpose in this life? A million people die everyday and a million are born, but why? What are they meant to do?”
“You ask of purpose, eh? What purpose did God have for creating us? We cannot learn about God’s intention. As far as the purpose of this life is concerned, I can only tell you what I have inferred from my experience. You have heard of ‘natural selection’, haven’t you? It is the process by which nature selects those species who are fit enough to enter the next stage of evolution. Similarly, this life is a test; a test to chose those people who are worthy enough to enter the next life.”
She became silent and I pondered over her words. Suddenly she said, “I have to go now.”
She took off a ring from her finger and gave it to me. “Here, take this.” And then she stood up.
“But…but I don’t need this.”
“Who said it is for you?” she replied.
“Will we ever meet again?” I asked after a perplexed pause.
“We meet to part and part to meet again,” she smiled. “Maybe, in another time, in another world.”
Then she walked off into the rain and became out of sight. I looked at the ring and slipped it into my pocket. After sometime the rain stopped and my motorcycle started working again. In a little more than an hour, I reached my destination.
I kept that ring with me for years. It gave me a strange feeling, a feeling that there were things which I didn’t understand, which I was never meant to understand. Fifteen years later, I was walking in a market with the ring in my pocket. After a while I checked my pockets and found that the ring was gone. I searched the whole market thinking that it might have fallen somewhere but in vain. That night I found a written note under my pillow.
“You did your job well. The ring reached where it was supposed to be.”
After that, I had the best sleep of my whole life.
« return.