Psalms

How would you know if you were asleep and the world that you lived in was a dream?
How would you know if you were dead?

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It has been a year since I have begun counting the days. I don't remember how many days or months or years have passed before that. Nor do I remember when it all started. All I know is I've been here for a very long time.

I woke into this world on an early winter morning. I was lying on a meadow covered with grass so green and soft that it felt like velvet. It felt weird because I knew I was supposed to wake up on a bed. But there was no bed. No house either. No buildings, no shops, no roads, no people... I thought I was still asleep and went back to sleep. But when I woke up it was all the same. I was alone and I felt frightened. I wanted to cry to my mother but I couldn't remember her name or her face. In fact I couldn't remember anyone. It was scary. I hoped it was a long bad dream and went back to sleep. But again, nothing changed when I woke up.

It is hard to describe what I felt in those early days. I told myself that I was in a coma. Every day I went to sleep in the hope of waking up to people I knew; people I remembered.

Things never changed.

It was hard to deal with this unrealistic world. I began to tell myself that I was insane. I hoped that I was being treated somewhere and that when I was finally cured I would start seeing things; remembering things. But there was no treatment. No people. No animals. No living creatures. And no memory of my previous life.

Days and months passed. I did not grow old. My body remained the same as it was when I woke up on that cold winter morning. I had never moved from the meadow for I was afraid of what lurked beyond. And for some irrational reason, I believed things would go back to normal if I stayed at one place for long. I persisted through the long winter with my false hope. It was cold but I never felt the chill once I was asleep. And everyday when I woke up, the meadow was just like the previous day. Pristine green and soft.

I wondered why I never got hungry. Once I spotted an apple orchard at the far end of the meadow. I was bewildered I hadn't spotted it before. I ran to the orchard in the hope of finding someone. There was no one in the orchard but the trees were full of ripe apples. I tried one or two. The apples were juicy and succulent but I did not feel like eating more.

That day, I sat in the apple orchard and cried until nightfall.

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It was hard to sleep at night sometimes. I would sit and look at the moon and wonder about my worthless existence. I longed to meet someone. Something. I would have been glad to meet an animal. But I met no one. I contemplated ending my life, many times during those sleepless nights. But something in my heart; I don't know what it was; kept telling me to hang on. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was instinct.

One fine day I decided to leave the safety of the meadows forever.
I realized that if I was ever going to meet someone, it was not going to happen by sticking to the safety of the meadows. And so I left my lonely home once and forever. I walked for days. Maybe months. I rested only at nights. My legs never got tired and my stomach never felt hungry. I drank water only to feel fresh. I avoided eating and drinking because it made me defecate. More than that it created emotions in me which I did not want to feel. For there was no greater pain than unshared feelings.

Everyday, I saw the sun rising through the hills ,spreading its golden splendour across the wilderness. I saw the sun setting below the horizon painting the sky with its crimson red. I saw streams, waterfalls, lakes, seas, mountains, valleys...

But I never saw a man.

I must have walked for years. My persistence was abandoning me. The last drop of hope had evaporated. I decided to end my life.

I was, of course, scared to die. But I had been contemplating about death for a long time. I even hoped that my death would take me back to the life which I thought normal although I had begun to forget what normal was. There was so much beauty around me and yet I could not take it alone. The entire beauty of the world lay before me and yet I did not want it. I wanted an end. I wanted death.

I wanted to die as painlessly as possible and yet that was impossible for I knew I wouldn't die due to starvation or dehydration. I had to mutilate myself to die. Or probably crush my brain so that I could no longer see or think. I spent days devising my death. And finally I found a way.

It was simple. At the time, I was in a valley surrounded by cliffs that were as tall as the sky. I climbed one of the cliffs. It took me two full days to climb the cliff and by the time I reached the top it was night. It was a full moon night and I could see the valley clearly. For a moment I paused and recounted my life in this world. But I was too eager to die. And as the moon and the stars witnessed in total silence ,I jumped from the cliff to the depths of the valley.

I do not remember what happened after I jumped. But I gained consciousness after some time. I looked around. I was lying on the floor of the valley with my arms and legs outstretched.

I lay there and cried bitterly for a long time.

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I tried many things. I banged my head on rocks. I cut my veins and neck with sharp stones. Every time the pain would shoot up through my body and blood would gush out. And every time I would pass out from the pain and loss of blood. But every time I woke up I had no wounds and no pain. I jumped into the seas only to be washed ashore by the waves. I jumped from cliffs and mountains only to wake up with a healthy body. I mutilated my body parts only to realize they were back in place after a long sleep.

I had begun to turn insane. Even death had forsaken me.

It was impossible to bear the torture of my existence. The pain of my existence was far more unbearable than the greatest pain I inflicted on my body.

Gradually, I came to accept that I was a prisoner in this world for eternity.

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I roamed in this world for months and years. I don't know where I went. I don't know how many times I tried to kill myself. But every day was the same. And hence I never stayed at one place.

I thought about God a lot. I wondered whether there was a God. It felt stupid looking to the sky and speaking to empty space. It felt stupid talking to myself because all that I ever heard was my sound. I wondered about hell too. Was this hell? Am I the soul being punished for the sins of my mind and body? Would I never go back? Would I be alone? Forever?

And whenever the torture of loneliness and the weight of eternity crushed my soul, I cried out loud. I cried like a mad man. I tore my hair and flesh. And then I cried more.

When I had cried for days, my heart would feel at peace. And in those moments of peace, I listened to the sound of the wind, of the waves, of water flowing in streams, of leaves rustling. And whenever I listened to them, I felt peace flowing through my body like a cool , healing, divine grace. In those divine moments my heart would swell with gratitude and love.

And then it was loneliness again. Eternal, silent loneliness.
The sun rose and set every day. The seasons came and went. Years passed. But nothing changed. Everything remained the same.

I remained the same.

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I don't know why I started counting the days. Guess I had nothing else to do. Everyday I get up when the sun's rays fall on my eyes. I walk and walk to the far ends of the earth in search of a companion. I walk in the hope of finding death. At night, I go to sleep hoping I would never wake up. But I always do.

I guess this is my hell.
To live amongst all this beauty.
To live alone.
To live forever!