An ode to a Dear Beloved named Sleep (By a Bereaved Lover)

Sleep, Her name evokes fond memories of the days when I used to lie firmly ensconced in her gentle grasp, with my tiny hand grasping, well, grasping onto absolutely nothing. Safe, secure, Snoozeland, oh how beautiful her realm was.

There was a time, when I used to live a free life without these wierd contraptions that are aimed at preserving my modesty, the aim being based on a preconceived notion that I have a non zero amount of Modesty, in absence of which the above would be rendered null and void. The reader (may his tribe increase) might have guessed that I am talking of the time when I used to roam around Unclad, save in my invisible raiment, So Royal that they were invisible to all living eyes save mine, and Royal that I was, that sufficed.

Then, Sleep was mine. I was Grand beyond Human Comprehension, who , witless creatures, saw not my true form, but saw a tiny kid in dire need of a censor board. Anyway, Sleep was mine. A Wink, a Clap,A Sigh, A Yawn, and she arrived to her Earthbound Love Interest. I am told that in the distant past I have spent upto 20 hours a day in the enlightening company of my beloved Sleep.

My life was a Happy one, So I can imagine the reader (may his/her tribe increase exponentially this time if he/she is Still reading) getting a bit edgy wondering how exactly Sleep Deserted Me.

Well, By Toutatis, and Belenos, and all the High gods of the Gauls, Cursed be the Day I dared to do what I did that eventually led to a long winding chain of events, a gradual souring of our relation, that has culminated in us being legally separated.

It was when I was 15. I flirted with Another. And not just any other, But I flirted with Insomnia, Sleep's Cosmic Archrival through the ages. It was so tempting. I had a History examination the next day, for which I was yet to start studying at 10 PM. Sleep came to me (Oh God Bless Her Pure Soul), and fool that I was, I rebuked her and sent her away. That was fairly normal. Isnt it? Every relation has its fights. I wanted a bit of Space. That was all .

And then she struck. I dont want to steer clear of all blame. The perfect Seductress is one who chooses the right moment.And isnt yielding to temptation a Sin? Insomnia was too old a player of this hand for me to deal and get away unscathed. She came to me, and needless to say, I was already Irked at Sleep, I cheated on my Love. I cheated on Sleep, thinking that I can get away, thinking that misdeeds of a night cannot be caught if they are not repeated.

Alas, I was wrong. Insomnia turned out to be a snake. Beautiful she was , Oh yes, But, a Snake from Within. She poisoned my very existence, (and Sleep's too, poor creature), by ensuring that she did come to know of my infidelity.(I suspect Thought of finally breaking the news to sleep) . Sleep No longer came at my summons. She came, but was detached, disinterested. In place of the Loving gaze, there was a Cold Stare. Instead of showing my sweet dreams of Meads and sunshine, I saw nightmares.We tried. She did , I did, But I had broken the faith, and there was no way to repair it (You dont get a second chance with these Cosmic Chicks). We grew more and more estranged.

The rest, as they say, is history. yesterday, at 4:00 AM I met Sleep for the last time. She had her bags packed, and she was going away. But she still Loves me, aye. She showed me the sweeest dreams imaginable for three hours, all our happy memories compressed in those three hours, a lifetime compressed in a nap. Then she kissed me goodbye, wished me luck, and flew away. For ever.

Its 3:50 AM now.

Quiet

Life is all about quietude. We remember loud boisterous acts, Acts which make a certain splash in a certain sense, no matter how abstract. We are remembered, by others and by ourselves for our time in the sun,and yet it is surprising how much time of our lives we spend in the shade, doing, saying nothing of note, the pits of our existence according to the Philosophers of Old. Modern man often derides his ancestors. He says that he thinks. He says that he values quietude more than action. In a way, every man now thinks himself an intellectual.

There, that is the catch. Modern man's notion of quietude is that of an action. A positive action , taking into account a certain desired result, and again, we have the all too familiar splash. Even when he does nothing, he is being an intellectual.He has evolved from his forefathers, but that is not in a heightened ability to exalt the utterly commonplace, but extarordinary phenomenon of Existence. If he has evolved, then that is an evolution in degrees, a certain sophistication that makes men look like sages, that allows us to wear a mask.

But we seldom realize, that most of the time in our lives, the most extraordinary thing we do is Being.Let me repeat that

Being

that is, most of the time, we just are. It is in that sense of quietude, that the time we are in its antithetic state, the state of being "loud", of adding some colour to the uniform background noise that is our existence, fades in comparison like tiny specks of dust on a cement floor.And yet, so bright is their shine, that they stand out, like bright stars in the vast nothingness of space.

But where would those stars be , if they didnt have the vast nothingness of space to hold them?
All consequence is embedded in an infinite matrix of absolutely nothing. All thats is sensed, heard, seen, is drawn out on a colorless canvas of quietude.

Let me not be misunderstood. I am not advocating totally overlooking acts of consequence. For how else would we know that a man existed, and consequently led an infinitely quiet life, if it is not by his deeds? Would we ever deduce the existence of Nothing out there had it not been for the few bright specks showered on the heavens, the existence of a nation, if not by its heroes?

But yes, man has to recognize, that just like the sky is seen only because man looks up to the stars, just like a nation is noticed only for its heroes,a man is known only for his deeds, But, that does not represent a man in entirety. In fact, here it would be fair to say that it doesnt represent the man at all. Chronicle every second of a man's life, from his birth to his death, and leave out every second when he does nothing. What remains, is it the man? The only thing that represents the life of a man is the life itself. To experience it in in entirety, one would have to live it. All other representations of his life are just convenient projections to serve certain ends.

The day man realizes this, he would have had attained nirvana, He would have attained Eternal Satisfaction.

The scriptures say that We arrive in this plane with aspirations, and undergo this long arduous journey of life and death, of pain and tears, of jubilation and disappointment,till all our aspirations are exhausted. At the end of all aspiration, we see the commonplace that sustains it all,and the beauty thereof. Just like a little child , who watched the stars greedily, in a bid to see them all, to imbibe the aeons of wisdom emanating from them, and he watches them till he grows very old, and then one day, he sees it. He realizes , that in his youthful fervour, he never saw the sky, dark, black, devoid of feature, the infinite , the endless, the source of all the wisdom that he ever wanted. And then, he finds Liberation. He Attains.He exalts in divine joy

He is.