The White Mosaic

He loved to rise early in the morning, when it was still dark. The sight of darkness vanishing into light gave him hope.

” What is it that you seek, Suraj?” Rajan asked with sheer frustration. Suraj shook his head in helplessness and said, ” It’s been a long time I have been asking the same question myself. I have tried everything to find the answer but I cannot deal with my own desperation and restlessness”. Rajan felt embarrassed at having asked this question. He knew that Suraj was going through tough times. A neglected childhood, a cruel father, a heartless society and his being a Dalit. It was as if he was born with multiple disabilities, many of which kept him dragging into an abyss. It is nearly a sin to be born a Dalit in India.
“Societies are breaking up in India. I don’t suggest that the earlier societies were any better. All I am trying to say is that things need to be changed with time. If societies fail to change or modify themselves, they are sure to go extinct. A society is not just its people. It is a society, because it constitutes people, institution, laws, customs and flexibility. Our present societies are a replica of those prevalent in the 10th century. Our customs and institutions resemble archaic buildings. They have outlived their time. Now it’s time to modify the structure otherwise the building will collapse one day. It’s not that our social institutions were that rigid from the day one. Our ancestors did give us the flexibility to modify ourselves according to the winds of time which was almost forgotten. The decline of our society started with Varna system. The Varna system gave way to the oppressive caste system. To maintain the caste hierarchy as it was, Social laws had to be solidified. And we are living the social laws of the time which has elapsed a very long time ago. We are keeping the ghost alive. So, how do the progressives survive in india? Do they constantly fight the practice of those ghost laws. No, they don’t. They try to bypass the social laws to get their things moving. It has been going on for a long time. Now, people have had enough of bypassing the social laws. The marriage as an institution is at its ebb. This very institution is the root of the problem. The society has advanced technologically but it’s social institutions have not. They have failed to modify themselves according to the changing times. Marriage as an institution is not wrong anyway. It’s the rigidity of it’s nature which is not appropriate. We are living in present age but are following the customs of 10th century. There is a huge gap between what the youth expect for them and what the customs expect from them.” Suraj said angrily. Rajan was joined by his elder brother, Nitesh. Nitesh is a man in his 40s. When he listened to Suraj, his face turned red. He looked like a Spanish bull ready to charge on its metador. He sucked his anger for the sake of manners. But he couldn’t hold on longer. And he burst out, ” you young fools don’t know a thing about customs. These customs are given to us by gods. Our ancestors lived with this customs. Our parents take these divine customs as unquestionable. Who are you to question them? You are just a child. How dare you call marriage as a rotten institution! Are you into drugs?.” Seeing the matters turning hot, Rajan intervened and tried to pacify both the sides. Rajan found in Suraj someone who echoes his own thoughts. He never supported Suraj for his radical thoughts even though many of which resembled his own. He belonged to an orthodox family. To support Suraj means to invite the wrath of his conservative society which he could never stand against. He found in Suraj, expression of his own anger towards the irrationality of his own faith. When he saw that his elder brother was trying to manhandle his own voice, he plunged himself in. For a brief moment, he felt he had the courage to stand up against this own fears. When Nitesh saw that his younger brother was also taking Suraj’s side, he got enraged. He caught Rajan by his collar and said, ” Our father has brought you up for this day? You stinking pig! You are a disgrace to our family.” Nitesh turned his head to Suraj and spoke near barkingly, ” You have brainwashed my brother. You are a shame on this earth. People like you would burn in hell. Why don’t you go and hang yourself to a tree?” Nitesh spat on his face and dragged his brother home by his collar.

Suraj stood there, watching the setting Sun. He loved watching sun. In fact his own name meant Sun only. The setting and rising of sun kept his hope of change alive. He kept looking at the sun. The Sun was playing a game of colours with the setting dust. It appeared as if the Sun had understood that his time for that day was going to end soon. That he couldn’t behave as a tyrant anymore. “Perhaps the Sun didn’t like to behave as a tyrant all the time. So when he got the chance to be the playful child, he threw away the royal honour and jumped into the act.” Suraj was observing the whole play with amusement. He knew the Sun did not have any choice in the daytime or did he?

Choices are not always binary in form. In fact, choices are never more than one. Perhaps we often see choices appear like a mosaic of different colours. Choices are like that and they keep crossing themselves with the other choices. Choices are like the erasable outlines made by our inner brush on the canvass of life. The wiser we become, the clearer and the farther the outlines are. Choices are our inner realms. By choices, a heart gives shapes to its voice. The experience gained by a person in one’s life come of great use while dealing with choices. Our decisions then show to the world the quality of our experiences. It is as if no decision in life is wrong because decisions squarely depend upon the wisdom gained by one in one’s lifetime. Some people believe more in feelings and instincts than rational application of brain. Some believe in the opposite. Some believe in mix of both. In fact, most people resort to use of a mix of both. What should be the ratio of Instincts to that of rationality lies again on the wisdom gained by a person. Both highly emotive and super computational reactions are rare though not uncommon.

The story is about a man who was taught by life to deal with choices. Life teaches in a strange way and it keeps teaching until one comes of age and learns the lesson.
Once, there was a man searching for the reason to live. His name was Suraj. He used to feel lonely despite having a lot of people around. He was seeking a company but the faces he saw, revealed something outside, were something else inside. He didn’t like such variations in and out. Such complexities of human behaviour made him feel alienated from the rest. He was a man of nowhere, heading nowhere, searching something which he himself didn’t have any clue of. He was seeking something which he knew, was inside him. But to see what was inside he had had to face himself, which he always did, but not without failure. He often wondered why he couldn’t reason with own self when he had the right to do so. “Why was it insanely difficult to get to the bottom of his heart, when he was the sole authority to command himself?” He asked this question to himself a hundred times.
Lost and alone, he sought refuge in the company of people who were known for wisdom and knowledge. He talked to the sages, met successful persons, read biographies of different people, had dialogues with philosophers, attended temple services, prayed and even begged to God, but he was as unstable as he had been earlier. He was seeking peace of mind but his mind never stopped speaking. He wanted his mind to stop this incessant talking. He was tired of reasoning with himself. He was trying hard not to be insane. But the voices, ah, they never stopped. He wanted something to keep his mind occupied and composed but composure in chaos is not easy to master. Our heart is the most fierce competitor we may ever confront with. By this competition our heart teaches us to master itself.
He also wanted something which can divert his mind to something less chaotic. Although the reasons were not hard to seek by. But he felt that whenever he set his hands upon a task, he faced resistance from his own heart. Whenever he went along with his feelings to achieve a particular goal, he couldn’t sustain its momentum. His patience got exhausted. He felt he was losing out to his life. Something was amiss in his life and it was a constant reminder which kept him feeling alive.
He used to feel that he was near a fracture point, that he was going to get himself declared a lunatic. His thoughts froze at this junction. He couldn’t step ahead. He wanted a life full of happenings and mobility but on the other hand, he felt his limbs were going numb. Although he knew what and how to do but he couldn’t figure out why. He wanted to feel the natural love of women. He wanted to travel around the globe to explore different cultures. He wanted to own money and property. He wanted to have wives and children. He wanted to rule the world. He wanted to set up a new chaotic liberal order. He wanted to read, explore, experience, enjoy and dive into life. His heart craved not only for sensual but also for spiritual pleasures. His heart wanted to feel connected to the world. He wanted to put his heart into something. But his heart rebelled whenever he took up a particular goal.
Much of this was going only in his thoughts. He could not find ways to act and live as per his thoughts. He spent a lot of time waiting for the right thoughts to arrive, for signs and omens to show up and for his heart to speak up. His heart ached because it itself was searching something to connect with. The heart itself had been floating in the vast ocean of life looking for Island of life.

Time was flowing up, without revealing any results, exasperating and exhausting him, and sucking out whatever little life left in him. With running out patience, throbbing heart and restless soul, he was seeking started begging for death. Exhausted and broken, he was walking aimlessly in a rugged plain, not knowing where he was heading to. After walking for many hours, his legs led him to a small hemlet near an abandoned lake. There was not much water left in it. The lake was cursed, the locals said. The people of nearby village killed and threw a couple into the lake who dared to marry against the social order of caste segregation. They were killed to keep the honour of their families intact. “From then on, there were no girl child in the families of those who consumed the lake water”, an old said sighed like he himself was a victim of the curse.
“If there are no girls then you wouldn’t be bothered about keeping your family honour intact. No girl means no marriage outside caste.” Suraj said it scornfully.
The old man’s face became as cold as ice when he heard the words. He spoke almost in tears, “Our whole lineage is going to end if we don’t find brides for our sons. Dear lord, it’s we who had sinned so punish us instead of our children. Our children should not pay for what we did.” And the old man hung his head in shame.
Suraj stood there not knowing what to do. He was aware of the situation of female foeticide and treatment meted out to a girl child. The old man stood up and led Suraj to the place which might be called the centre of a group of houses. The houses looked like poor shanties but they were kept clean. A middle aged lady, the wife of the old man, brought two glasses of milk tea. She stood there while both of the men sipped their tea.
The tea was finished. Night was falling.In the distance, the sun was slowly falling into the ocean of horizon and every other earthly object adorned a mourning gown. The earthly objects appeared to be vanishing into oblivion, promising to resurrect soon. Falling sun, disappearing vision and buzzing cicada gave the evening a serene yet melancholic auro. The three of them remained silent for a while. Twilight is such a time in a day which compels almost all of us to contemplate something vague and abstract. Twilight make us believe that one day, our life will meet with the same fate. That one day, our life will also dive into oblivion. The last remaining traces of daylight were finally beginning to fade away. When there is a duel between the life and the death, each tries to outlast the other. The winning side never blinks for a moment, fearing the victory might slip out of hand and the losing side stake everything to win the losing battle. Losing is not an option so the duel of life and death is a sight to watch. Glimpses of the same could be seen during twilight. The sun tries to outshine the darkness but its momentary victory fades as soon as time lapses, and in the end the sun has to accept that it has to lose now so as to win again a few hours later.

The three of them were lost in a trance like state. Each one of them was reflecting on one’s own life. Suraj was in a thought train which was travelling 20 years of his conscious life in flashes, stopping at a few junctions, skipping a few and halting at some important ones. Yet this great a distance didn’t took a long to travel. Between setting sun and falling darkness, he had really travelled that long. The old man was lost in the old times. The times when there were marriages, when there were drumbeats for every male child born and consolation for every girl child. He regret following the social norms prevalent at that time. He cursed the village elders. He cursed god for watching all this in silence. He felt guilty for observing caste diktats like they were orders direct from the gods. The lady, Shanta, kept looking at her hands as if they were holding a newborn baby. The same hands in which she had held her new born daughter many years ago, even though for a few minutes. On that day few years back into the time, she was in labour. The midwife was called in. Shanta prayed to the gods to bestow her with a male child. She promised many big and small offerings to the gods if she bore a boy. The time of labour was reaching near. The midwife, a lady in her 80s, heard Shanta praying for a male child. She sighed in disbelief that a woman can ever dare to see her child as a boy or a girl and not as her own fruit, her own flesh. “It’s the age of Kali, people can fall to any level”, she shook her head. The pain was beyond what Shanta imagined it to be. It was as if her skull was being cracked open by pulling her eyes sockets on either sides. The pain was increasing manifolds at every breath. Shanta felt she might die that day. She could hear nothing. All she could see was the faint light of the overhead bulb which appeared a distant star in an otherwise dark sky. The midwife shook her shoulder gently to announce her that she had born the child. The midwife hesitated for a moment and spoke, ” it’s a girl child”. ” Let me see my child, let me see my baby”. It was all Shanta could speak then. The midwife felt assured that as long as motherhood would be there, children would definitely come of age. Shanta wanted to see her child badly. She looked the baby through her fainting eyes. She knew that if she closed her eyes then, the baby would be gone by the times she woke up again. She kept staring at the baby. Her emotions were in a roller coaster ride, switching from one to another. She was happy that she had saved the chance to look at her own flesh. Then she became furious with the way society wanted to kill all the girls. Then she consoled herself that she would no longer be hearing the taunts of the women of the village if the child was killed. Thinking that she had been thinking such filth, she was overwhelmed with guilt. Even the baby stopped crying and looked back at her mother’s rapidly changing facial expressions. The baby was taken away and she kept staring at her hands in the same way she was staring at them, many years later, in the dark.
Finally she broke the silence and said,” It’s I who wanted a son. Had I not desired son myself so much, my daughter would have been alive.” And she broke in sobbing. The old man watched her sobbing. The moon started its ascent in the sky. In that half lit sky, Suraj could see silver drops rolling down on the cheeks of the old man. ” It’s I who was so obstinate about complying with the diktats of village council. It was I who valued family honour more than anything. It’s I, the fool, who killed our daughter.”
All of them fell silent. There were no more tears. It’s as if the couple was waiting for a third person who they could speak truth with. They needed one, not because there was any difference of opinion between the couple. It was not as if both of them couldn’t speak truth to each other. It was because they were so much ashamed of their acts that they needed someone to hear the heinous crimes they had committed. They wanted someone to hate them as much as they hate themselves, if not more. In Suraj they found that someone. Suraj was listening to them with an indifference. Even though the pain and honesty in their admission moved him yet he stayed silent. He was broken himself. How could he muster up courage to console them?
While he was listening to the old couple Suraj felt a strange change inside. He felt that his heart was also listening to the conversation. There was no more constant chatter. He felt at ease after a long time. He was used to the constant chatter in his mind. He was used to his mind rapidly moving between voicing it’s grievances to flashing past mistakes but he was not used to such silence. He was no longer listening to the old couple. He was listening to his own heart. He was trying to adjust to the sudden change inside. He felt he was losing track of time. He felt his limbs easing. He tried to listen to the old couple but all he could hear was some muffling sounds coming from a faraway distance. His eyes became heavy by now. He could see nothing but dark silhouettes. He could hear nothing but his own heart beating. And gradually, he fell to sleep. He didn’t know he was in sleep. He felt as if he and his heart were standing face to face in a dark and cold room. His heart was looking at him. He reached out to feel his heart but he couldn’t. He came to realise that something beyond his comprehension was happening then. That his heart was standing before him in person and he couldn’t feel his own body. Before he could come out of this shock, his heart spoke. “I am the world and world is me. I am the universe and the universe is me. I am everything and everything is me. I am you and you are me. I am truth. Truth is me and I am you.” After a brief moment of silence, it spoke again, ” I am truth. You have been in pain not because life is giving you pain. You are in misery because you are not being truthful to your own self. You are in pain because you are trying to avoid seeing what is in plain sight before you. You have faced a lot of troubles. You have faced difficulties. But you have never dared to face yourself. Be truthful to yourself. By being truthful to yourself, you will create your own universe of truth. Each person sees universe in its own way and no two ways can be the same. Each person is born with one’s own universe. You have yours. Paint it with truth. All choices lead to the same end. You cannot live in two choices at the same time. The choices before you are not many but one. You see them as many because you yourself like to see many of them. Both life and death are not choices. The many lies you paint, the many rainbows you will see. Speak truth and you will see the clear road”.