I remember this piece to be a result of standing at the edge of the rocky beach at Pondicherry at night. The idea, it just struck me, and I started typing out this piece on my phone. Inspiration strikes at odd times, you know?
The sun went down, but I missed it, just over the last row of buildings. Daylight dipped as I made my way to the rocks, and perched myself onto one not too far away, nor too close to the water. It darkened steadily, till at the horizon the sky and the sea merged into one, and I wasn't able to see nothing but darkness, hear nothing but weak low tide waves lapping up against other rocks.
They say that the darkest moment in the night is just before the dawn. I disagree. The darkness I faced just after dusk, was so dense I could not see my hands. And when you have nought to do but listen to the periodic splashes of water that remind you of a different happier time, but also of how you are not part of their playful banter with the rocks, you ruminate. Life, works out similar. Things don't get right from wrong in a flash. But it takes absolutely no time for things to go from perfect to a mess. One minute you are witnessing the end of a perfect day, where everything went right, and the next instant you are lost, shrouded in darkness, the happy lapping of the day already an era bygone. You look everywhere, hoping to find something to hold on to, some ray of hope, something that you know, something that soothes your growing paranoia. You are in denial, for you forget, you cannot see, the dark is too much.
I, thus sat on the rocks, unable to enjoy the cool breeze trying to disarm me, to allay my fears. And then, I gave up and stood, my eyes unable to distinguish between the darkened skies, and the merciless ocean. To my sight, it was a simple canvas - of my life - black in colour, as in nature. I lifted a leg, prepared to walk into the canvas, to embrace what would now be my world. A distant voice, my head, my rational side, reminded my of the fall that awaited my, should I decide to shift my weight any further, and then the descent into the salty waters, but I brushed it aside. It was foreign, hard, this was natural, easy. I looked about one last time, in desperate hope that someone, anyone would still be looking for me, would help me escape from this cage. Blank. Darkness. Nothing. Now, even the oceans seemed to be laughing at me.
I closed my eyes, steeled myself to the inevitability of my next, probably last action. I opened my eyes, and froze. From where I least expected it, my eyes perceived a change. A golden line appeared, horizontal, breaking the horizon into a dark purple sky and tremulous waters of an oily ocean. The waters, flickering, as though they too sensed the aberration in their design, quavered gold on black, like fire reflecting off the surface of oil. And then, slowly, but majestically, emerged out of the waters at the distant horizon, did the moon.
It might have been small, dense, yellow, but its aura enveloped more than double its size on the night sky, fighting hard to re establish its dark, cold control, and the waves became more turbulent, in response to the soothing effect of the moon. The moon, untouched by the efforts of the dark, and the darker, continued its rise, providing more light to the world, and to me. As I kept watching, hope budding, a path of golden light started emerging, from the horizon, right below the moon's ascent, to me, on the last rock, before I stood on one leg, frozen, yet alive, marvelling the ways of the world.
Here I was, about to embrace the darkness, leave all my troubles behind, take the final step, that He, in all his benevolence, sends out his night watchman to give me hope that I so desperately searched among my mortal peers. The waves were beginning to pick up, afraid of losing their prey, trying to reach up to me instead, frothing against the rocks below me. And then there was the moon, and the path of light, a bridge to another world, built ironically on the very churning waters that seemed to be laughing at me not very long ago.
I looked back, again, but no one waiting. The path was hope, the moon the guide, beckoning me to a world where I would be accepted, even loved. And, so, at long last, I moved. I took that first step.
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