Departure The winter is very cold this year. The old man as always sits on the stairs of the Swayambhu and stares the people coming to pay their homage.  A rather cloudy afternoon and a chill breeze of air. The old man wraps an old-ragged blanket around him. With his legs crossed he leans his back against the wall and closes his eyes. The warmth of the sun is what the day demands but it’s a pity to say that the intentions of the liked ones are always weighed greater than those who like them. The cold, the cloud and above all the wind makes the day far worse. Calmness and numbness are two very different things both literally and figuratively. The utter cold is rather making the old man feel numb. He is nonchalant about the bits of food and some coins thrown in front of him. His half open eyes can only see the images around him; a woman in red sari circling around one of the stupas, an infant crying hard yet managing to lick his candy and a young girl and a boy sitting close to one another and holding each other’s hand. But his brain is unable to make any sense out of it. He is just there sitting and staring without understanding. Biology has provided an interesting fact about adaptation. The human body changes its quality in accordance to the comfort of the body itself. Likewise, in the case of the old man, if it is not the cold, that is making him numb, it must be the adaptation of his body not to understand the things so that he in the degree of comfort not pain. No one can predict what is going to happen next. Life is a flow; it flows like the rivers, through the forests, between the mountains, round the meadows. The flow is unstoppable; one is bound to flow along with it witnessing every circumstance that comes in the way. It is how the things were, are and will be forever.  The old man is no exception; he has to follow the rule of nature and flow towards the direction for which he is destined to.  All his cheap cigarettes have been long smoked and not a drop of whiskey past ten years. He can do nothing but crouch his body and rely upon his blanket.  The packs of cigarettes and the bottles of whiskey that he emptied in many casinos are of no use now. The fallen yellow leaves from the trees and a sudden breeze to scatter them all, rattling, drifting, blowing up with the air and finally settling them again to the ground. But this time rather to a different position than before. The rush of people in fear of the imminent rain, the sound of footsteps on the staircase and the prayers of the Buddhist Monks. Indeed, a strange mélange of peace and chaos. But, nothing can deter the faith that one day the prayers will be heard and the peace will take over the chaos and on that faith stands the Swayambhu at the top with its holy message for peace.  Finally the clouds burst out, a heavy down pour in an instance and the weather becoming more gruesome for the creatures. The old man moves slowly towards a shade holding the walls and sits under the shade beside a bronze statue of Lord Buddha. He feels different today; numbness prevails over him but constant flash back of the past as clear as the present. Meditating position of Lord Buddha; closed eyes, crossed legs, palms over one another placed lightly on the lap and a mystic glow on the face. He stares the face for a long time in an utter amusement. Ten years and he could not observe it but today all of a sudden, the glow, the mystic glow. He looks older than his age. Discarded by his friends and relatives, he sits there and contemplates over his past and present life. He wipes his nose with the back of his right palm and of course his hands are shaking due to the cold and the old age. But it is not shaking as much as it did when he placed his final bid, all of his properties. He had no choice, but to gamble, to try his luck for the last time. The luck was not in his favour, he made a wrong decision and probably the final one regarding his life. “You go to casino again, I won’t be in this house anymore.” The words his wife spoke before he left for his last bid. But he was helpless. Yes, it was all his fault, the filthy habit of gambling. He wanted to make the things normal again. He wanted his things back, the mortgaged house and land in the bank. He had no other choice than to gamble. That day he drank, he drank a lot whiskey. His trembling hands opened the door of his house, which is now impossible to make his own. The ignored words of his wife came true with a note in a piece of paper on the bed. Since then life offered him nothing but pain, hunger, guilt and cold. The cold is gripping him from inside. He can feel the cold piercing his lungs with each breathe he takes in. The mystic glow is incredible. It intensifies with the time, he continues to look at the face, more and more the glow intensifies. His whole body is shaking, his heart is beating slower and his eyes are partially blinded by the glow. But he is deterred to look at the face until his last breathe. The glow intensifies more and takes over all of the place. The old man cannot stand the intensity and closes his eyes. He finds himself in front of a closed door and his hands moving forward to open it. He hears a voice, a familiar voice, a woman telling him something but is unable to understand it. He tries to listen it more carefully but the voice is too weak for his ears. Finally, he opens the door but something forces him to try to understand the voice once more. This time he is utmost careful to get all the words. He hears the voice say him, “You go to casino again, I won’t be in this house anymore.” He closes the door at once and steps his feet backward. The dead body of the old man lies flat on the floor beside the bronze statue. People start to gather around it, staring the body and above all the face of the old man, a kind of glow persists on it, the same as before, the mystic glow.           Last edited: 15-Nov-09 10:11 AM Last edited: 15-Nov-09 10:14 AM