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Before
the Beginning
Imagination,
totally out of the realm of experience, is impossible.
Somewhere, somewhen.
Time, that great charlatan, does not flow, or even appear to do so, neatly
and evenly as it does for us, in other universes. Past, present and future
are mere artifices that shield the frail human mind from the horror of
a reality it can neither conceive of nor perceive.
This then is a
tale, nay, a description of the Great Game. A Game that is indulged in
by those pan-dimensional entities for whom there is no end as we know
it, and of whose beginning, if indeed they had one, we cannot even think
of attempting an understanding.
Every now and
then, one or more of these entities took human form for a while. Enjoying
the straight, ordered line that is Time to us. Laughing at our frailties,
yet leaving behind them vast treasure troves (to us) of knowledge that
are so terrifying to access that they have been buried by the weight of
millennia of 'tradition' created especially for that task. So successfully
buried that no one has even guessed at the possibility of their existence.
Backspace
I was running late.
The bloody rain had not made things easier - the paths were slushy and
manoeuvring through them was proving to be more time-consuming than I
expected it to be. Damn - I should have taken the road. The engine of
my trusty TVS Champ was whining, protesting against the barbaric treatment
it was getting.
By the time I drove
into the college parking lot it was three minutes past nine. I ran all
the way to the third-floor classroom - if I could make it there before
five past nine, I would be in - a five-minute delay was acceptable on
rainy days. American Literature was not exactly my favourite subject,
but it was my favourite class. Where else could you spend hours debating
the metaphysics of the universe and get rewarded for it. I barely made
it to class, only to find that the prof had taken the day off and we really
did not have anything to do that hour.
It was a beautiful
day - the kind of beautiful day you can find only in the shadow of the
Nilgiris - the rain had let up, but it was still cloudy. Chandru and I
sat on the terrace, simply enjoying the wonderful weather. This sort of
a day could not be wasted in college, and definitely not in Shakespeare
class. We decided to do a bunk, collected our bags, rescued Sriram, who
was loudly protesting, from his Chemistry class and headed home.
***
By the time the day
ended and Sriram and Chandru left, it was past nine, and I was nicely
tired - ten hours of non-stop gabbing does that to you. I took Bowser,
our large black labrador, for a leisurely walk before turning in.
Bowser was one of
Nature's originals - a lazybones if ever there was one, as averse to walking
or exercise of any kind as he was fond of food. The next best thing to
food he liked was to lie down and think. He slept very little - most of
the time he seemed to be in deep thought, and would look most unhappy
when disturbed. By the time we returned from our walk, he was looking
daggers at me. He flopped off to his favourite spot in front of the TV
and settled down for his think.
I was asleep almost
as soon as I hit the bed, and when I awoke, it was to find myself in total
and utter darkness. A darkness that enveloped me totally - a darkness
of all the senses - I could see, hear, touch, smell, taste nothing. I
realised that I could not even tell whether I was standing or sitting
or lying down or whether I was looking up or down or sideways. Heck, I
couldn't even say which was up and which was down. What was happening?
Where was I?
As I remained suspended,
I tried to think of all the things that could have happened, and came
to the happy conclusion that this was a dream. And normally, my dreams
were mega productions where I could direct most of the action, and best
of all, get out of if I found the going too tough. But this - this was
a different proposition. This dream was totally unlike anything else I
had even thought of in my wildest imaginings. I slowly realised the meaning
of total darkness and began to enjoy it, savouring the sensory emptiness,
which strangely enough seemed to make thinking and the flow of thought
that much easier and undisturbed. This was, to use a much-worn cliche,
cool! I could write about total darkness in my next American Literature
assignment - it would get me the eight I needed and the debate would be
lovely, not to mention loud and long-drawn. I loved this dream!
And then, without
warning, without even a pause or a by-your-leave, the tranquillity was
shattered. Like a meteor crashing into the placid surface of a calm lake,
something crashed into my mind. As I lay reeling under it, not knowing
what was happening, I could make out the presence of two others. One was
an overbearing presence, huge and ponderous, while the other seemed light,
alert and chirpy. These perceptions were, of course, in the mind, for
the darkness continued as before. The only difference now was that my
mind was my medium, for sensing as well as expressing. And this felt strange
and uncomfortable.
"Welcome to
Backspace," said the ponderous one. "I trust you are comfortable."
The thoughts directed at me were as clear as a voice. I could even assign
characteristics to the voice - deep and resonant, the sort of voice you
would expect God to have.
"Well, not really,"
I said (thought?), "I'd be more happy talking with my mouth, listening
with my ears and thinking with my mind."
"Oh well, okay..."
he replied.
In a flash, I was
on my feet in a large airy chamber. Sunlight was pouring in from the large
windows all around and I could even hear birds chirping in the distance.
I could see the large ponderous one in front of me now - he was a tall,
wide man with a long beard and dressed in dark-coloured robes. He had
a face of a patriarch, and was smiling benevolently at me. This dream
was getting better and better, I thought.
"First off,
I want you to please realise that this is not a dream. I am real, you
are real and what you are here for is more real than ever." He sounded
almost offended that I should have thought that this was a dream. And
he could read my thoughts. Yikes!
"Okay, so what's
up? And who are you, by the way?" I asked, deciding to play along.
"What's up,
you'll know. As for who I am, suffice it to know that I am Master of the
Third Quadrant." He said it with the capital letters. I swear.
He went on, "And
I have only one thing to tell you - do as you are told and everything
will be alright. Your guide will do the rest. Farewell!"
And he was gone.
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