Vaheguroo. Beautifully said Bhai MB Singh jee.
This is a part of a story that daas had written a few years ago. I thought it had relevance to this post.
Bhul chuk muaaf jee
***
A long, long time had passed, and as far as she could see, Anjaan Kaur had left her pursuers far behind, for the grey-faced five had were nowhere in sight. Days of kicking up dust as she walked along the road had made the dirt settle firmly over her like a blanket. Jaitagun had lost its sparkling lustre, now heavy with dust and grime.
At times, she could keep the light of ambrosia burning within her, and a calmness would bathe over her, washing the thought of filth from her mind, filling her with a wisdom to embrace the particles which clung to her with a mingling stickiness, taking in the dark clouds which followed her ceaselessly and to drink in their power, make it a part of her. Increasingly though, tiredness was overcoming her, and her steps began to lose their rhythm. More and more she faltered; the powerful dark clouds became menacing and hateful; darkness would start to pass into her and close in over the flickering light in her heart.
She tried to keep the image of her father in her mind. How long had it been since she had been separated from him? His glowing features were beginning to wear in her mind; her memories slowly seeping from her with every step she took.
The smoke which trickled upward in the distance billowed ceaselessly. The narrow road reached endlessly into infinite. But she no longer knew if her feet would have the strength to take her to her destination.
Anjaan Kaur dragged herself half-heartedly on. She clung, still, to what was left of the quivering glow of her father’s face in her mind, every so often letting it rekindle the wavering flame in her heart. Her own weakness disgusted her, and over and over she would drown in her self-revolt, even as she walked. And often, oh so often, she would forget the love which her father had enveloped her in when he had given her his dress and draped her in his image.
Several nights after she left her shack, a particular wariness had settled over her. The moon shone brilliantly, but it could not dispel the darkness that had overcome her. Sudden noises from behind her made Anjaan Kaur spin backwards, Jaitagun gripped before her.
And there he was, standing boldly on her path, as if he was meant to be there.
The moonlight made him look so beautiful.
Overcome by the silvery outline of this creature which stood before her, she dropped her arm, Jaitagun becoming loose in her hand. He smiled, inviting her to indulge in his brilliant lustre. She knew him – had known him very well, long ago. She knew it was the moonlight which was lending him his glow; yet in her exhaustion, she had lost all desire to turn away and walk on. His features looked so alluring, and as he extended his hand she merely shrugged at his shameful invitation and, dropping Jaitagun to the ground, moved to take it.
She stepped forward. In that moment, as the thud of Jaitagun falling to the ground suddenly awakened her from her captivation, the monster’s four companions stepped out from the darkness and encroached upon her
****
Darkness.
Her eyes opened slowly, feeling slowly pulsing back into her from her head down. Several long minutes passed before consciousness came back to her fully. Slowly, she became aware of the ground beneath her, pressing up against her cheek.
Where was she?
The moon still gleamed brilliantly above, blanketing the landscape under an eerie silver light. Anjaan Kaur felt the grass beneath her fingers, cold and wet. A throbbing was pulsing in her temple, her body ached, the muscles in her stomach were tearing. Every cell on her body clung with the reek of defilement.
As if suddenly being pulled out of water, Anjaan Kaur gasped sharply, sputtering up dirt.
She sat up, much too quickly. Dizziness threatened to pull her back down, but the consciousness which had found her again would not allow her spinning head such reprieve. Ignoring her screaming limbs, she forced herself up on unsure feet, and looked frantically around.
Gone.
The path was gone.
Jaitagun was gone.
The monsters were gone.
And Anjaan Kaur was left with neither world.
Now the dizziness was not just in her head. Her whole heart and soul spun in agonized confusion. What had happened? What had the monsters done to her? Where had they taken her? How did they find her? How did she fall so easily into their hands?
They had taken Jaitagun – beloved gift of her beloved father – they had destroyed her dignity, defiled the name of her father, and stolen all that she had left of his memory that had remained pure, when she had given herself so easily to corruption. The understanding of the extent of her folly hit her hard, cutting into her like a blade. Pain welled up inside her, greater than that which pounded in her flesh. There was nowhere for her to go, and no one to turn to. She was all alone in her sorrow. All around her, was nothing but an expansive emptiness.
Darkness.
She could no longer contain her sadness; as no one was around to hear her, Anjaan Kaur cried to the moon, a lone wolf stranded in an endless wilderness. She cried out her shame, her fear, her sadness, her anger – she cried and cried until she no longer understood what she cried for. All that she knew was that the memory of her father had disappeared, and there was nothing left to warm the cool, empty chambers of her heart.
As she poured out her soul to the indifferent globe in the sky, a different sound began to merge with her own wail. It was many voices, merged as one note, vibrating, dancing, wailing into the night sky. It was unlike anything she had heard before – it was sorrow and joy, it was longing and passion, it was the agony of the separated widow, it was the song of the lover who had found his goddess.
Anjaan Kaur was captivated. The song of angels hung like a single note in the night sky, resonating with the strings of her heart. She forgot how to breathe; her body drunk in the oxygen around her greedily, but she herself tasted nothing of it. She forgot how to see; she could not see the darkness which her eyes took in, but only the music which began to resound louder, and louder, and louder, and louder with the voice of the One she had forgotten.
Angels appeared before her, but she did not know what they looked like. She only saw beauty. They reached for her with invisible hands and lifted her from her Self; she was light now, lighter than air; they embraced her into their fold until she was one with Them. She knew, at that moment, that these were her siblings. They were the children of her father.
She could not remember who she was – no, who she had been. Now she cried harder than she had cried ever before, for she was remembering something much greater. This was love, she realised. This was ambrosial nectar by which her father had given life to her and her siblings. This was his presence.
And she cried for this feeling flooded every part of her non-self, and it was in this love that her father was drenching her in spite of her faltering; her heart poured from her eyes, her soul tore under the heavy weight of this burden, this blessing which she had never earned, which she could never make herself deserve.
And the angels continued to carry her as she lost herself, and placed her, with gentle tenderness onto the path which had become invisible to her under the darkness of the night. They placed her down, and her feet melted into dusty road which now felt like soft sand, and she felt her body again, the pathway soothing the battered soles of her feet, and suddenly from within her the fire which had become extinguished began to burn with a greater fervour than ever before, burn so fiercely that the filth which had built on her began to melt away with its strength. She felt the flame grow and grow, its heat both fierce and soft, and suddenly she remembered the hands of her father on her head, and his face became radiant in her mind again, and she remembered his features more vibrantly than before. The music of the angels became distant, and meanwhile it became louder too, for it began to resonate from a place a far within her.
The darkness that had surrounded her now moved apart and the moonlight fell only onto the path beneath her feet. Her mouth began to chant the Word which her siblings had brought back into her heart, the Word which her father had given her but she had not fed into the flame which burned infinitely within her. And suddenly she understood – the confusion and the doubt which had plagued her subconscious and her conscious vanished in a sudden, pristine moment of absolute clarity.
Anjaan Kaur no longer walked on the Path; her feet became the slaves which carried her. And on she went.
***
As long as we can go on, it is not too late for redemption <3
ਸਤਿਗੁਰਬਚਨਕਮਾਵਣੇਸਚਾਏਹੁਵੀਚਾਰੁ॥