Suramya

Chapter 13- The questions.

"W-what?-" Inara couldn't comprehend Evara's words.

On the other hand, Evara, just as confused as the other three said, "Yeah. It was just two hours ago when I bid you goodbye before I helped jig dig some pits. I thought you were going to the hostel."

"We were but..." Kavi let that incomplete sentence hang in the air, as he took in everything around him. What was even real at this point?

Ruchya thoughtlessly pulled his arm up and checked the back of his hand. The scratch was still there. Quite intact. It definitely had been real. They had definitely travelled for three days, met some tirths along the way and lived them entirely.

Now the one question that had been on repeat in the minds of Ruchya, Kavi and Inara— How was this possible?

Ruchya, the only one curious enough to get the answer, turned away from the group and started walking towards the one direction he had grown familiar with. The waterfall.

The sound of the waters hitting the rocks grew louder, and the wind grew cooler and stronger. He could see a rainbow hanging on top of the waterfall. He removed his footwear near a tree, as he climbed onto the peripheral rocks of the waterbody. It felt wet beneath his feat and he forced his weight on the ground just enough to not let him fall.

Guruji was standing near the banks of the waters, staring right into the pond.

Ruchya walked towards him, knowing that just the presence of Guruji was a call for Ruchya to approach.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Ruchya said in a low, but audible-over-the-loud-waterfall voice.

Guruji simply smiled, looked at him and met his eyes. "You're really observant, boy."

He had known who the old man back in the forest was. The eyes were the exact old that Guruji's eyes are. He had known who they belonged to. The face may have been different, but the eyes; they never lie.

"Why did you do it?" Ruchya knew that Guruji understood his question, even though the context was nearly hidden.

"I wanted you to consider. Making up your mind for one and only thing is good for determination, but it ruins consideration and choices. I wanted you to have that." He said.

"Why were we gone only for a few hours?"

"You deserve to get your time back."

"Why was the Gurkul playing with us?"

"It wasn't playing; it was calling you. You're meant to be here. But I didn't want you to have it, I wanted you to choose it. Which, now you have." Guruji looked up in an impressed manner.

Ruchya quietly appreciated Guruji for doing what he did. For giving them choices.

"You yearn for knowledge, don't you?" Guruji asked.

"How did you know?"

"It isn't hard with the way you've been listening and analysing the words that come out of my mouth when I'm with my pupils. If you want to be one of them, you can be."

Ruchya took a breath. "Actually, I wanted to ask you a few questions."

Guruji smiled, knowing his tactics all too well. The boy was a fond swimmer in the ocean of knowledge and he couldn't help but get amused by his determination.

"Go ahead. Ask me whatever you want to."

Ruchya stayed quiet for a moment as he searched through his web of thoughts, the ones which had been unanswered since ages. "What is enlightenment?"

"Enlightenment is equivalent to being content. It doesn't mean knowing the right answers to every question. No human is ever capable to perfect an answer. But, being content with the answer they know, it brings them consciousness. No one can achieve consciousness, hence the path to contentment also becomes invisible with this. Someone who becomes successful in achieving so, is who we call a saint. Whose mind is at rest. Whose mind is content." Guruji stared out into the water, but not really looking at it.

Ruchya paused, pondering upon the words guru spoke. He was impressed by the answer, indeed. But he had more to be answered.

"Is it easier to love or be loved?"

"Depends on the person, and the circumstances they've been through. Naturally, a person who has been truly loved by someone, doesn't find it difficult to give love to others. Kavi, for instance, finds it easier to give love to others. And you, I believe, find it easier to be loved."

He was indeed correct. All my life, have I been loved by my father, and I have loved him too. But it seems much easier to me, the fact of being loved. Ruchya wasn't surprised that Guruji knew about his past, and others' as well.

"But remember, there's a difference in love and attachment. Love heals. Attachment spoils."

"What is attachment?"

"Attachment is itself attached with many other things. Possession, obsession and irrationality. When a person gets detached, they feel a sense of defeat. That is because they were in possession of the object. Whereas when it's love, there is a sense of grief. When a person gets detached, they turn mad and do everything in their power to get it back. That's obsession. Whereas in love, there is a sense of acceptance. In attachment, a person spoils. In love, a person heals. Ashwatthama, the great maharathi of Mahabharat, was spoiled by his father Dronachrya. Meanwhile, Pandavs, the great warriors of Mahabharat, were healed by Kunti even in poverty."

Ruchya smiled. He felt as if he had already become a pupil of this great mind. But there was one last question he wanted to ask. Not to test Guruji, no. That was never his intention. He just wanted the answers.

"Is there a reason for life?"

Guruji looked away from the waterfall to meet his eyes. He smiled. "No. Destiny gives purpose to everyone's life, absolutely. But one has to find the reason for the purpose themselves. Hence– you, Ruchya, will have to answer me that."

Ruchya looked up at him. "Thank you, Guruji. I promise to always obey your words, and to never fail you." He bent down and touched the Guru's feet, sincerely promising.

"Sadaa Vijay Bhava." Blessed the Guru.

Ruchya stood up again, meeting his Guru's old eyes. The same eyes that had been of the small man they met in the forest– the reason they came back.

Guruji waited, knowing Ruchya had something more to himself.

"One last question. Who are you?" Ruchya asked, narrowing his eyes calculatively, as if he would himself find an answer to that question.

The old man smiled. He turned towards the water and said, "I have multiple names. Some call me Swamil, some Bodaw, and others Nila Purba."

Then he turned, and his eyes looked different. For a second, Ruchya wanted to run away. He wanted to hide. But he held himself in place. And soon, the eyes weren't eyes at all. He saw everything in those eyes, everything he shouldn't have. The entire universe— or even that may be an understatement.

"सर्वाधिकप्रयुक्तं तु यत् तदर्थं धारयति। यः मम शक्तिं ददाति। तादात्म्यं ददाति यः, महर्षि विश्वामित्रः||"

(But the most used of all, the one which holds meaning to it. The one which gives me the power I have. The one which gives me identity, is Maharishi Vishwamitra.)