Monologue of a Photon
May be to compound the derision of my sub-microscopic size, I am shot at a colossal speed in the vast chasm of the space so that I can even not have a proper feel of the surroundings and the self. I just sweep across, too fast to be noticed or to notice subtly anything that comes in my path. The privileges to have a respite, to recline and to rest have been snatched from me since my birth. My wings were in full swing when I started understanding. I originated from an inferno in a star you can trace back to on my wake. And we were zillions of us, burning in that voracious fire, scrambling for escape and radiating along all infinite vectors and zooming into the space. Not knowing the direction, the destiny and the purpose. How true of you too! But like a child gradually discovers the novelties of his body and soul, I too started discovering myself.
Let me tell you first about my speed. I am hurled at the unknown at such an enormous speed that it took me years together to come to myself and some more to get accustomed to it. This speed has landed me in universe’s worst isolation and I am traveling still deeper. The companions on the adjoining tracks have departed long back and I am left alone and am drifting alone farther and farther in the fathomless abyss. I remember my last companion on the neighborhood track deviating from me and soon becoming invisible, never to be seen again. Are there many other photons like me, traveling to other corners (?) of space, but a little luckier than me to have some company on fore and aft? I was quite misfortunate in that I was an aberrational deflection from a surface; cut off from the leaders and the followers. The fellows ahead of me got caught into a gloomy planet in the path and when I was attempting to catch up with them at my speed, I could not! I just missed it. And for an era of innumerable years I was leading a pretty long queue of my brethren when we found that we, all of us, were going to get salvation in the tail of an errant comet. But even this time, the comet was slow enough to miss me! Me alone!!
I was in a kind of panic. Hey, where am I going to find some company? There were those celestial bodies around and I just wished one of them endeared me and it remained wish. One prays for some soul to rest in peace. But by that if you mean the peace of my kind, in the corner of the universe with all broken communications, please don’t pray! Solitude is the worst kind of punishment- what is imprisonment?-just an award of forced solitude! It is frustrating to be alone- to be away from near ones or ones who could potentially be made near. When I look back at the dim-lit sponge of the universe from this extremity of it, the uneasiness devours my psyche. What is the end of this journey? Is there an end at all? I have been traveling since so long and it all has been meaningless. I will be reaching farther and farther- but to do what? Why am I being sent on an abstract mission - to measure the infinite? What does that mean?
Am I imprisoned or am I at large? I may be traveling freely but all my motions are bound by one or another limits. Am I indeed alone or there are accompaniments that are transcendental to my faculties?
What is the ulterior motive of the Creator behind this scrimmage? Why has he created such an immense space? Calling it immense would also undermine its expanse. Infinite would be the apt phrase. Why has he created the stupendous material bodies in that? Why has he littered them in it in a haphazard manner all over? What is the purpose of the Creator in churning this mass along so diverse of paths, with so wide ranging speeds and directions? All thoughts are maddening. And something that is dearer to my heart – why has he chosen this shape, this size, this mélange of characteristics and ultimately this fate for me?
Probably life is not about questioning but about accepting the obvious. It’s quite easy to ask questions and it’s crazy to find the answers. One may have a lot of inquisitiveness but the Creator least bothers to address that. How much we can think about the obvious and the abstract? One can devote oneself to the chores of life and during an odd bit, tired of the chores, may question the intent of the exercise one is going through in life. Not finding the answers and above that not getting an escape from the chores is certainly vexatious. Here I would love to narrate you a story of an ancient Gurukul[1]. Those were the days when human race had managed to look beyond mere sustenance and the questions like “Who am I?” were started being raised. An erudite philosopher was well renowned for his discernment of the purpose of genesis of universe and the mechanism of its operations. And he had a scholar, call him Ninad[2], very inquisitive about the purpose and reasoning of human existence studying under him. The scholar would pester the Guru repeated asking him about the purpose of life and reasoning behind the pattern in which it is lived. The Guru never answered his questions and bandied them among fellow scholars. The scholar got detached from life, from its beauty and its ugliness, from its appeals and repulsions, from the force of nature on it and also from his own …..that might have been….influence on the surroundings. He thought it otiose to associate himself with the verisimilar obligations of one’s existence and associated volitions. His life was very different for others and very difficult for himself and he resembled my alter-ego, an isolated photon, on the crowded and busy planet.
He finished studies, albeit purposelessly and it was the time to pay the Guru his Dakshina[3]. The Guru required him, only him among the 200 odd pupils who got away with dispensation of some small obligation, to go to a remote backward town in the kingdom and live with a renowned shoemaker’s family for 6 years and outdo the shoemaker in his own art. Ninad was a man of his words and very soon he started out for shoemaker’s village. To his dismay, the shoemaker had not heard of the Guru and could employ Ninad only for carrying out trivial work in exchange of two meals a day. There was no value of Ninad’s learning at the Gurukul. The shoemaker’s family was happy and loving but the “class” of living was conspicuously shabby from his family or Gurukul. Ninad was asked to scout for dead animals around the nearby villages in the beginning and soon he was involved in all elements of the process of tanning a hide into good quality leather. In the early days of his presence at the shoemaker’s place, he learned to manage the commotion out of the conflict between his mental orientation and his surroundings. He had to carry out the promise made to Guru without any grudge and fuss. He could not afford to let his invisible disinterest in life affect his promise of excellence in making footwear. The family of the shoemaker extracted a good amount of labor from him but did have a non-manifested understanding of mental struggle Ninad was putting up and had a very kind heart for him. Tanning of hide required rigorous labor and slowly Ninad developed a good understanding of the animal lives, animal skins, preservation of hide, designing and decorating the shoes and sandals. He learned to withstand the stench of rotting animals, the pressure of working till late nights when deliveries were required to make in urgency and everything that a good tanning job entails.
Time passed as the night passes during the sleep. Six years were finished and Ninad fulfilled the promise he made to his Guru. He was now a renowned shoemaker in the area. One day Ninad got an order for making sandals from a Saint who was passing by the village. The Saint has asked the actual shoemaker to hand over the sandals in person. Ninad knew it was his Guru. Ninad obediently handed over the sandals to the Guru and stood in a bowed position in front of him. Guru Said, “Ninad, your six years of service with the shoemaker are finished. You have delivered what you promised me. Now you can go home and lead your usual life.”
Ninad said, “Guruji, I do not want to go home. I have discovered the answers of the questions I asked you during my stay here. I want to continue my life here because it is here that I discovered the meaning of life. We all are sons of the Creator and we are like Him. He is not sick to hide the secrets of this Creation from us. It is our failure in appreciating the obvious.” Guru was happy to see the unnerved disciple back to normal. Ninad invited the Guru for his marriage with the daughter of the shoemaker who found it very difficult to take her eyes off the sturdy sinews of Ninad.
My story is no way different. Why should I think that life is meaningless? Why should I believe that life has no objective? The Creator has an explicit intention to mimic his own qualities through his creation. Thus, each of his creation is endowed with infinite might. It is the abject failure to discern this power that brings misery in life. Even as a diminutive photon thrown out of the universe, I behold the might to pull the universe to me, to destruct it where it is, to create my own universe or communicate with it with transcendental senses. The path that the creator has chosen for me must have a meaning, a beautiful meaning and I should know that meaning in my own way or at least I should tread the path peacefully as I already know how to do it. And if see that the God’s creation is not in the proper shape, I am going to stop and turn back and show the direction of enlightenment to the universe with my yogic[4] prowess. I challenge everyone here-“Who is there to belittle me, an abject photon?”
[1] Place where pupils stayed under the tutelage and guardianship of a Guru at his Kul (place) away from family to study the scriptures, sciences and arts.
[2] Literally means a loud, reverberating sound.
[3] The voluntary gift given to the Guru at the time of convocation, not necessarily defrayal.
[4] The word Yoga or Yog has a very different meaning than usually implied physical excersize. Yog means activation of infinite mights that every creation is blessed with by God, which is not ordinarily realized by an Individiual. “Sarvanam Yoginah Priyah” – Yogis are most beloved among all to me – said Krishna. Coincidently my surname Joshi is derived from the word Yogi.