Nicholas' Phantasmic Journey :: Part 2
Devasis Laishram *
Part 2: The Mystic Guide
Though bewildered by the completely intangible event that had just happened, Nicholas was far from being distressed and for some unknown reason, was rather euphoric in standing in this complete strange place, staring at this magical horizon that parted the sky into two identical parts, the very same image yet different in every aspect, for something called ‘lateral inversion' was thoughtful enough to completely disorient the picture, replace the right with the left and leave behind a twin, a twin that glimmers so magnificently on this spread of water that seems to go on and on to the very end of the infinity. Nicholas felt that he was somehow meant to be here.
The breaking of a twig made Nicholas turn around. And what he saw were trees; tall, powerful trees that stood firmly to the ground and Nicholas felt as though he'd been here before. And thus, for no particular reason, Nicholas found himself drawn by a magnetic force to an unknown destination.
Birds chirped with such joviality from within the greenness that Nicholas became almost ecstatic. The music that filled the air, the symphonic compositions of the birds and insects that tuned themselves to such amazing precision was completely foreign to Nicholas, for the usual ‘party music' that he's so acquainted to bears no resemblance to this musical unison where each living soul is a vital artist.
Nature, he found, was so much more meaningful than the savourless sound that booms deafeningly loud in an efficiently sound-proofed room where people, after a long and tiresome week of work, come to rejuvenate their spirits only to go back to their long and tiresome work; the outcome of which is a loop played over and over again and stops only when we lie in our bed with a vision similar to that of a myopic patient of 10 dioptre, a heart that beats like the engine of a 20 year old maruti suzuki-800, a pair of lungs that gasps for air like a fish that has so unfortunately managed to find itself on land, a body emaciated to a horribly high degree so as to resemble the Phasmatodea-or otherwise known as the stick insect- and a soul waiting to depart from this horrible, puny, decaying mass of skin and bones.
Another breaking of a twig disrupted Nicholas' pensive mood and what he saw gave him chills to the point of fainting. A few hundred metres from where he stood frozen was a white figure, a ghostlike white and black that stood still, staring at him, and this figure suddenly darted towards him. Nicholas wanted to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction, but his legs that trembled outrageously wouldn't move and then, just as he managed to force control over them, he fell, and before he knew it, the figure hovered gently in the air before him, a maiden of unparalleled beauty, her silky black hair shining boldly against the spotless white robe that she wore. Her eyes, her pitch black eyes, eyes that sparkled stunningly against the pallor of her skin stared deep into Nicholas' own and before he could move a muscle, a hand reached out and grabbed his forehead.
What he felt then was an indescribable calmness and Nicholas was overcome with an astonishing sensation of happiness, peace and love, love for everything around him; the birds that chirped with such liveliness, the branches that swayed gaily with the soothing breeze, the leaves that danced merrily as they swirled their way down the earth, the bees that provided a layer of soft music as they buzzed their way to find sweet nectar. Nicholas felt an affection for every single detail of nature's unprecedented brilliance.
When he opened his eyes, he found the maiden slowly drifting away from him and despite the horror he felt when he first saw her, he wanted to follow her.
"Wait," he yelled and Nicholas was chasing this mystical stranger, this stranger who Nicholas somehow felt he'd known his entire life.
He struggled past bushes and branches and increased his speed as he chased her, but this maiden, despite her dawdling gait, seemed to distance herself more and more, and so Nicholas ran faster and faster. A strong breeze and the maiden was in the air, floating flawlessly, her robe forming ripples of whiteness against the blue background. Nicholas' eyes shifted upwards but he didn't stop running. He had to catch her, somehow reach up to her.
Then he fell; ran beyond a cliff and fell.
But he was floating. Gravity suddenly seemed to disappear and Nicholas was not falling but floating, the blueness below him reflecting a hazy image of himself as he soared effortlessly among the swallows.
"Come Nicholas," called out a voice, an angel-like voice, a voice that Nicholas has heard a million times before.
And then thunder. The clouds darkened, transformed themselves from white to cumulus, obstructing the warmness of the sun, pouring billions of droplets of elixir to the billions of souls below, a perfect example of how something dreadfully saddening can sometimes be the reason of our very existence. Ahead, amid the blackness was the pure white figure soaring ever so calmly and Nicholas realized that the shift had happened again and he was no longer at the Loktak Lake but above a playground where a dozen kids were playing their hearts out in the terrible weather.
"Look closely Nicholas," said the peaceful, strangely familiar voice.
And there, among the tiny creatures playing blissfully in the mud was young Nicholas.
To be continued ..
* Devasis Laishram wrote this article for e-pao.net
The writer describes himself as
"I am from Pishumthong Ningom Leirak and i'm currently doing my B.Tech in Punjab. I would be totally delighted if someone called me a "volatile-Promethean"; volatile, mostly because I completely abhor invariability and stagnancy and I constantly seek new interests and hobbies and promethean because, well, who doesn't like to be called ingeneous! Even though I am a sad perfectionist, and a brutal skeptic, I do like to keep my mind open to new ideas and theories for I believe with the microscopic consciousness of the human brain, nothing is definite. I love writing, music(those by artists from a proper music college), reading novels, travelling, gym-ing and hope to add a lot more to the list. I hope to write fantasy novels mixed with a sort of philosophical non-fiction."
The writer can be contacted at dipu(dot)dvs(at)gmail(dot)com
This article was posted on September 07, 2013
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