The Enlightenment
The tides of the History Turn;
When ascetics, in their Fancy, Speak!
THE LUNATIC FELL SILENT AND LOOKED AT THE AUDIENCE THEY. TOO, WERE SILENT AND GAZED AT HIM in AMAZEMENT. THEN THE LUNATIC DASHED THE LAMP AGAINST THE FLOOR and it BROKE INTO PIECES AND ITS FLaMe DIED. THE LUNATIC DECLARED, ‘I AM BORN FAR AHEAD OF THE TIME, I BELONG TO THE FUTURE. THIS DREADFUL INCIDENT iS STILL IN THE PROCESS OF COVERING THE DISTANCES!
(an extract from one of Neitze’s similes)
When I try to enlighten the people, with a clay-lamp in my hand, which itself is a proof of the rising suns in my eyes, they look at me as if I am joking. Some laugh at me and some simply look at me without understanding and pass by.
The proof of the rising suns in my eyes, the clay lamp, is still in my hand. But nobody is inclined to believe me. I, myself become skeptical. Am I born one thousand and six hundred years ahead of my time. These people look that many years behind. They will never understand me. Then I go to my mother on a cue. I tell her that the future is all lit and that the clay lamp in my hand is proof of the rising suns in my eyes. She looks at me with anguish and reciting some holy verses under her breath she blows them over my face. My younger sister looks at me, scared, and tucks herself in the mother’s side. Smiling on the plainness of my mother and the innocence of my sister I go to Mubarakah and tell her that I have been appointed by God to convey the good tidings of a radiant future, and the clay lamp is the proof of the rising suns in my eyes. But ignoring my declarations she starts updating me regarding the bills of the shop-keepers and the children’s fees. Disappointed I go to Iffat and when I tell her everything seriously and insist that the light would emanate from the rising suns in my eyes she comes closer and touching the clay lamp in my hand says, ‘are you in the mood of writing a story?’ I assure her that whatever I am saying is the truth she exhorts me to write a story a story on the subject.
I am now fully convinced that I am born one thousand six hundred years ahead of my time. It had happened once in the past too. I had found then that I was born fifty years ahead of my time and when I died and was born after fifty years I had discovered that I was then one hundred years ahead of my time. And when I was born after one hundred years it tuned out that I was two hundred years ahead. And after two hundred years it was four hundred and after four hundred it was eight hundred and after eight hundred it is now the case of one thousand and six hundred years.
I, who am the tiding of the radiant future, am getting distanced from this world. I wonder about that zero duration in which all the spans of the centuries and the ages would get shrunk and my birth would not be construed as ahead or prior to my time. The- Zero-Duration in which man would never sacrifice himself for the Fire in the process of negating the Light. I would have to wait for that period.
The period of one thousand and six hundred years would perhaps double and keep doubling ever converting that gap into millennia. I don’t know when it would happen on time and when the rising suns is my eyes would just be a stone’s throw away from above our heads. Then nobody would dare to negate my claim.
I, then, come to the square of the city, along with the burden of the past and the present ages on my soul, and declare: “By not believing in me O folk you have denied yourselves a great enlightenment!” Even before my declaration is complete people begin deriding me over my foolishness. Their insults and epithets target me from all around. I try to take them in my stride with equanimity. When people get tired of the decision I, without completing my earlier announcement, ominously warn, look O people, devoid of the luminous insight, you have slighted the radiance and the light. Only those of you, who would take shelter behind my house, would be spared. I am one thousand six hundred years of my time, though, but an inferno is your fate. Saying this I dash my lamp against the center of the square and start hurrying towards my house. The derisive laughs of the people chase me. The same derisive laughs suddenly turn into cries of pain and agony even before I reach home. The clay lamp that I had dashed against the square had caused a widespread fire. It engulfs the city in a jiffy. The rising and leaping flames from all around and the cries and shouts of the anguished people cause a terrible chaos. I go and sit in my room. My mother looks at me in surprise and then again at the leaping flames. My younger sister is still with my mother, still tucking herself into her side. She suddenly pulls my mother into my room and sitting her sits beside her.
Mubarakah and Iffat too come into the room. They are both puzzled. After a pregnant silence, Mubarakah ventures; ‘there are a lot of people outside to allegiate their loyalty to you.’
It doesn’t matter now. Those who are in the shelter of my house and its walls would however be safe. I can’t accept their allegiance now. I will now come after three thousand two hundred years and then again after six thousand and four hundred years and likewise. Mubarakah’s and Iffat’s faces reflect fright along with their faith. My younger sister gets closer to her mother. My mother tries to envision through her blank eyes the moment when she had given me birth and I begin to wait for that zero duration when the rising suns in my eyes would come down to a stone’s throw and become the proof of their own being. And when I would not have to carry a clay lamp to pontify my claim.
* * *
My mother and my younger sister are sitting in front of me on a bench. Mubarakah, checking my pulse, says “Iffat had come to inquire after you, you were asleep then. She would come again after a while.” I then begin to wonder for what zero duration I was waiting!
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