Inside stuff

I mean, there's a lot of things going on. I am sitting near the window once, staring out at things, never knowing what I am looking at, or looking for. I am just looking. Then I look down. Very weird feeling.. shaky feeling. It's like you are thinking of jumping off, but you are afraid of slipping. Then you think that if anyone gets to read your head, he/she will surely think of you as a psycho with suicidal tendencies, where as in reality, you are hoping that no one thinks that way about you, as you have no plans to jump off in the first place. 

While at the window, I hear this guy. He sounds exactly like someone you know....Knew, actually. He's chanting in a procession. He's leading this bunch of fellows to the beach. The whole thing, all procession and stuff is being carried out to bid farewell to a god. They are going to drown him. The god. Yeah. Sounds funny. They are all happy. 10 days of devotion. The moment 10 days are over, drown the god. Keeping him is becoming an expensive affair. अतिथि  देवो भवः (Atithi Devo Bhava).The way the words go,  a guest is like god. But beyond a point, अतिथि, तुम कब जाओगे ?(Atithi, tum kab jaaogey?), When will you take our leave. oh dear guest?! Frankly, despite the risk  of making a grammatical error, देवः अतिथि भवः (Deva atithi bhava) (God, you're a guest)sounds  appropriate, more likely.  

So this procession I am sitting and looking at from my perch. I have gone to one myself. It feels strange. After staying with the idol for a complete night, there is this weird bond you form with the idol. It won't let you sleep. So the next evening, when you are going to drown the idol, you don't know how to feel. You feel like crying, but thankfully that feeling remains like a heavy rock inside. It stays there for a while. You can't cry. Why would you? Why would anyone? Specially someone, who takes pride in calling himself a rational being? Humans are supposed to be rational beings. And sometimes, we cry. In our own privacy. Sometimes in public. When no one's looking. 

Then you hear this voice. You know the voice. Very distinct. But it is not possible. For it belongs to someone you knew. It rings inside your head for some reason. You saw him go, Your heart quickens. It starts to throb. You look at the clock. It's 1:30 in the morning. It must be a horror movie. 

About a year has passed since you spent the night staying up, next to the idol. Next evening, you are a part of the procession heading off to a river to bid the idol good-bye. The guy heading the procession is chanting something, He says to the god, "Come back next year, ASAP.". The idol's face has a permanent smirk on it. It must be laughing. Laughing at what people do, year after year. 

The guy still chants along. The procession reaches the river.  I watch them drown the idol. I feel weird inside. Almost asking myself, why go through all this trouble to serve someone, when at sunset, you'd personally drown him.her? The question bounces off naked walls. It is supposed to be redundant, I guess. So much for tradition...

All chanting and all the paraphernalia that goes along with it is over. I still feel funny inside. Can't tell anyone. It happens often. You want to tell something. You don't know what it is. And you don't know whom to tell. It's like, the thoughts are there. They won't take shape in any understandable form.

Suddenly, fast-forward one year into the future. You find yourself next to the same old window you started at. That familiar voice is still chanting. But you know, what? That is not possible. The guy who chanted a year ago, is no more. He drowned someplace 1200 km away from where I am sitting now. No, it's not Karma or any such fancy term, used by fanatics to convince themselves of the balancing forces at play in the universe. It just happened. Somehow, this guy's memory kind of haunts me. Not in the top-ten list of people under any category of my considerations, but the guy chanting outside my window surely sounds like him. The same pump to the voice, the same accent. I can't get a visual on the guy. But somewhere in my head, this guy, the one long gone, is jumping around our procession, jumping and bouncing, chanting out loud. Looking forward to the next time he gets to do what he's doing now. So he chants fervently, 

गणपति बाप्पा, मोरया !! मंगल मूर्ति , मोरया !! 

गणपति बाप्पा, मोरया !!पुढच्या वर्षी लौकरया !!

His chants echo. Thankfully,  the echo is out there, down somewhere, not just inside my head.