Staring, she realised that she could not recognize the face that looked back at her. Its face was drawn with fatigue, the eyes looked like they had ceased to see, clouded by an unexplained sadness which had made its way within and settled there. The face was ghostly, frightening, looked smouldered and battered. Anjaan could not see anything of who she might still be in her reflection.
She had come upon the grand river several days ago, and since had remained immobile, deciding not to continue any further, at least not for a very long time. She doubted she would get much further, anyway. The river would be the end of her travel, the place where she now wondered if she would lay and die. She sometimes wished for that. To be swept away like the cold currents of the river, seemed a merciful alternative to the agony of travelling any further on a hopeless journey. Yet she never could make herself stop; there was a pull which dragged her along the edge of starvation, making her weak, yet never totally surrendering her to the elements. She stared up into the dark skies, and felt anxiety clench at her insides. The world was a deception, the terrain had lied to her and told her there was hope. But whatever was real was hiding itself from her, hidden beneath a thick grey sky which would not open up.
Over the span of her travels, she had noticed her vision had slowly decreased, or perhaps it was the blandness of her surrounding world that had begun to disillusion her. She thought it might slightly be driving her mad; the grey skies, the empty landscape, the silence. Sometimes she collapsed into fits of sadness, her cries bellowing freely. At first, she thought she would be unheard; she rarely saw living things, except for the few small animals which competed with her for food. As she came closer to the river, though, gnarled trees sprouting suddenly around her, she began to cry more cautiously. She had not seen anything until this point, but one more than one occasion had heard noises which warned her that she was not alone.
An apple drifted suddenly towards her, floating amiably along the side. Anjaan blinked, wondering if she was simply seeing things. Then she leaned over and fished out her breakfast for the day. The sun was only just starting to rise.
She had taken one hasty bite, when suddenly she heard it. The deep, low-sounding purr - or growl? - which had been following her along for the last several days. Anjaan froze, heart pounding. This was no small animal. Though she had never encountered any such beast before, she knew about them, and knew she was in trouble. The purr grew louder, she could feel the creature approaching, and from the side of her vision she could see its golden, muscled body emerge into her surroundings. Suddenly, in the darkness of the dawning day, in the bleakness of her soul, in the panic of the moment - she remembered what she was here for.
Older days passed through her memory. Days of safety, simplicity, convenience. Then came the day, when her head touched the floor, the crown was placed upon her, and she had taken up the sword. Battle drums had beaten, her heart had pounded exhilaratingly, and in grand clarity, she saw it in her heart, her mission, what she would die for, what she would journey for, fight for, put herself through fire and ice for. A passion had been sparked within her, as all around her accomplices urged her on. Her heart had been soaring, soaring like the eagles ahead. She had known who she was, felt strength igniting every muscle and vein in her body. Jaitagun was strong and steady in her hands, shining gloriously.
And then blood had begun to spill. All around her, terrible cries racked the skies, and her vision blurred. She was beaten, over and over. A terrible weakness assaulted her and drained her of everything she had ever been. She had forgotten. Forgotten, forgotten, lost all foresight, lost everything she had been. Over and over, she was ransacked, until she was left alone, screaming her agony.
But as the creature now entered her vision, she felt her old exhiliration returning. She could see now, the lioness, standing at a distance by the edge of the water. It was not looking at her. It was staring into the distance, as if waiting. Something about the creature’s majesty stirred something within Anjaan. The lioness was not particularly large; in fact, it looked malnourished. Yet it stood with so much strength, its head held high, that it took her breath away. As the droplets of golden sun began to fall upon the earth, the lioness’s fur seemed to come alight with the flames of passion suddenly re-ignited in Anjaan’s heart.
Inside of her, something began to resound, making its way to Anjaan’s lips, becoming stronger. One last memory had come to mind. It was the memory of Anjaan’s promise, made with her head to the ground. A mutual promise, which had been infused through her head and eyes and poured down her throat, engraved into her heart and now was escaping, fearlessly, from her lips. An unspeakable promise. A promise of many words. As a single name now vibrated on the currents of air between them, the lioness slowly turned her head. Anjaan readied herself for attack, but the lioness did not stir. Instead, there was a moment in which the two seemed to share something powerful. And in those animal eyes, Anjaan saw something human: a reflection of her own self.
Come sunrise, both Anjaan and the lioness would stir, and Anjaan would pick up jaithagun and feel its blade enter the creature’s golden flesh as it pounced. But for now, united by a singular longing, the two sat and watched as the red sun broke through the grey clouds and filtered into the meaninglessly bland world. As sunlight streamed through like heavenly hands, and the apple lay uneaten in Anjaan’s lap, and the air blew warmly, and her eyes dampened, Anjaan knew that her master would hold her in embrace and carry her across. There was hope. And it was of something far greater than any struggle she now faced.
Carry me across,
The whole world cries
The earth does not love me
It paints me great lies
Carry me across,
The creatures all say
I can go no further,
I’ve reached the end of my days
Carry me across,
Every living being moans
My heart is suffering
And my mind wanders and roams
Carry me across,
Without you I am dead
My beloved, my master
Please come to my bed
Carry me across,
I am so alone
I search for peace
But without you there’s no hope
Carry me across,
My soul is screaming for your sight
My whole world is in darkness
I am shrivelling without light
Carry me across,
You are my love and breath
Without your arms around me
I’d be happier in death
Carry me across,
The whole world says in tears
Our sins have blurred our vision
Are hopeful days near here?
Carry me across,
Oh Merciful to the Meek,
The people in their callings
Have become so very weak
My Master is kind,
With a kiss He’ll leave an oath
None who come to His door
Will leave without reason to hope
My Master is beautiful,
So I’ve heard say
Those who fall at His feet
Find the light of day
The world remains in night,
Until in His Grace he grants
The sunrise to those lucky beings
whom He gives His name to chant
Beautiful are the tears,
Of those who beg at His door
Of those who fall at His lotus feet
They’ll be given the whole world
Carry me across,
Beg this day and night
Do not lose hope and faith
He will bring us to the light
ਸਤਿਗੁਰਬਚਨਕਮਾਵਣੇਸਚਾਏਹੁਵੀਚਾਰੁ॥