Journal – Maria Nirmal

If there was an afterlife and if there were heaven and hell, set up on a floor up and down respectively, I think what probably takes you there at the end of your life would be an escalator. Not an elevator or a staircase, but just a gently paced escalator to transit those waiting from the waiting area to whatever awaits them to wherever they are headed.

The lift would be too quick don’t you think? All the excitement and anticipation of what heaven would be or the dreariness recounting all your sins on your way down could last a little longer. Especially the way down is a punishment in itself proportional to the time it takes. Also, it’d be a damnable waste of energy to transport the empty lifts back to pick them, people. Heavens people don’t deserve that crowded sweaty packed boxes as everyone might be in a hurry. Don’t think the hells people in any hurry to get to burning forever, but their concerns do not matter here I guess.

The staircases – let’s just straightaway agree that it is pointless. Come on, the countless stairs. If anyone is found counting the number of stairs that leads you anywhere beyond life on this earth can already be deemed to be in hell. So stop counting. Also, who is being punished here the people climbing up or down? Maybe they can keep the stairs if they could switch heaven and hell’s floor.

The escalator, however, imho(in my honest opinion(just saving your trouble here, in case if you didn’t know what it stands for)) provides for a better reminiscence of life while standing as an allegory for life itself. Life of their own. First, let us settle on the logistics. You just need to set up one-way transit and there’s not much loss of energy in any way as it’ll never run empty as long as there is a steady supply of people, and that we humans can promise. Also at a steady pace, there’s no rushing in the immigration process, if they had any policies as such in place. Let’s just assume even if it was there it’s be done in a jiffy in heaven. It’d be more pleasurable than to have no process at all. They scan you as you walk in and someone at the gate welcomes you and hands you a welcome guide and information bulletin and an ID. You never have to wait. However, in hell, they still keep the records on paper. You fill out the forms, get a token, stand in an endless queue and move from counter to counter manned by the ill-equipped people, with lifetime experiences of handling such work here. Let us not get ahead of ourselves. The Escalator again, imagine the people getting on them. The old hesitant and in no hurry letting the young pass by, patiently get on and wait cautiously to get off. The middle-aged cluelessly look around wondering how they ended up here, but still sincerely standing upright however inclined their views are. The young, as if they are in a hurry, look rather stranded and impatient trying to get ahead a few steps. The children running up and down like it’s a game, not giving a heck. The babies wrapped by warm bosoms have nothing to worry. They never get hungry and never cry. They keep smiling as if they are being swirled. And they all go to heaven.

But what if they had some advanced tech like personalized instant portals? Yeah, maybe.

I went to the beach a second consecutive day. Just to hear that song. Though I have read that song somewhere in my life in the past, the haunting rendition squeezed the soul from within, that it deserved a space much bigger to explode, that fits it’s words. Being the death anniversary of the poet is all the more reason to set the scene. But the day was much beautiful than I had hoped to set up. I had doubts or was plain lazy to start as I thought behind the urge to listen to the song in a particular set up, more like questioned my sanity. It was not something to worry about then is it. Madness is what we seek at some point, isn’t it. Drove till I saw the familiar spaces. Then as I ritually when straight into the waters leaving the slippers at a visible range, capturing the frisbee players and sand sculptors and the weekend cyclists, was disappointed by the veil of clouds that wouldn’t let me catch the sun in my favourite tangerine red. But it turned around so soon. The disappointment, but strangely by the people. College kids having a bath in the sea was nothing strange on a weekend. But this was the most genuine set of guys who had no one to impress and were enjoying the sea without distractions. To my right were a family of three brothers. The elder one must be married I guess with two kids as there was only one woman accompanying them. But their relationship isn’t a concern. The eldest kid was on the verge of jumping into the sea while the young one was about to fall into an oncoming wave. The eldest of them all caught him and warned him not to go in. But moments later the younger one of the adults went ahead and dipped in without worry. Soon followed by the rest for of them. Of course with the permission from the women who was keeping watch. The kids didn’t care I was near by and jumped into the retreating waters. I didn’t mind even a little. We exchanged smiles that we couldn’t wash off with all that water. There was another young dad with whom i exchanged more smiles. He was dragging his kid along the beach. Actually it started as such, but it was the kid who started running dragging his dad. Another one dad with two of his kids mind catching up with his kids. A daughter and a son. They were old enough to run away but young enough to wait him. All while I kept a constant check on my slippers. cause once they slipped away into a plane I couldn’t reach. I remembered the purpose of the visit. Traced back the steps to seat atop them slippers. Withdrawing myself into the dream spun by this reverberation within, I hardly recognised it build around me. The waves crashing asynchronously made the digital rendition as analogue as possible. Another young dad brought his kid and let him go while he sat and watched him. So did I. I didn’t need to see the kids face to see how euphoric he was. Hopping in the same spot and waving his hands as calling out to the sea as his long lost friend from yesterday’s class. The dance of innocence radiating from pure joy. Oh what would I give to enjoy it again. But you can’t turn time. You can only watch and take pleasure that at least you had your chance and now again to watch something like this. As the song faded away for the sixth time, I sat staring at the blue sky, clouded yet open to let the sun beam down to light the ocean into a spectacle of everyday life. The kids still wavering his hands in the air. A elder muslim in his seventies clad in dull cloudy white walked along with his granddaughter draped in burqa, who stood just above his knee. The prayer beads in his palms redeem him. This walk will. The love of his grand daughter will. The young dad, whom I was almost jealous of now, called out to his son, piggybacked him and left to his person called home. I’m sure she enjoyed her solitude as much as them. The kid didn’t ask for more. He looked content. So were the weekend riders who took endless selfies without worrying about the salty water corroding their bikes. The friends who caught up at the beach from their routine looked content too. But I wasn’t. I wanted to hear that song one more time. I wanted to taste the salt of the water welled up to compare it with the sea’s. One last time. Joy is contagious. Content isn’t.

Category: Journal

The way out

Journal 110916