The Window on the West - Part 2: The Universal Consciousness

[The second part.]

The Universal Consciousness

Turn away.

It is such a well-crafted bit of furniture, mister. Fit for the kings. That’s what you think, as you curl up on the regal cot, itself lying demurely in the corner of the veranda. Or rather, that’s what you ought to. But you do not subscribe, and thus, you gaze out peacefully into the face of Freedom. A school catches your eye; the students, as a body, babbling away in some foreign tongue. An open driveway that swirls and swirls and disappears into roseate memory. You will sob like the rebel who has realised his place in the universe one day, but you don’t know it yet. Oh, for a moment back then! You see the neighbour’s cook doing ye olde clanging and the intriguing smell of fish and smoke wafts to you. There are cards on the table and antique coins dating back to the Chain-Born Era. You’ve lost interest though. The sky is as lush a colour as you can imagine. All the warm anticipation of a freshwater morning at a picnic and a nostalgic whiff of the swallows flying south. Wow, there glimmers the pond between the buildings; there watches a fellow soul from his happy cell. Now, you confuse yourself with what truly was. You don’t know that, of course. You’re almost on the verge. Truth…and...nothi… It was like that though. Perhaps. You dash your car along the tiles unconcernedly. 

Later in the day, someone asks you whether all perception is an illusion and you cease to exist.  Meld now into the background hum of the universe, lost forever, forever to linger. You have broken through.

The chained Beast is chained no more.

Turn back.

The Window on the West - Part 1: Taking Leave, My Monsieur

[So, living up to my name, I've been doing that ol' rambling lately. Mostly to procrastinate from exams. And yeah, mostly that. However, I have whipped up something, so I'm a-gonna make a post about it. It happens to be this short story called The Window on the West. And it shall duly be posted in the five cantos that comprise it. What, I'm allowed a touch of pretension, aren't I?!

So yeah, this is the first part. I hope you enjoy it, you random internet dweller, you. At least a little bit? Ah well.]

 The Window on the West 

Taking Leave, My Monsieur

I have traversed the entire universe for this. Broken through bounds known by no man nor god in the search of travels. Nay, adventures. Nay, madness and wandering, timeless and happy. And thus, I return to the wastelands that yearn for me. As I yearn for it.

How long have I looked, how long have I searched. Is it a dash of insanity that is customary? Reveries, the lot of them. That great beast of iron rears up, hissing with venom and charm. The sighs of men and women all around, the relief, the momentary flutter of their hearts, for life will carry on with clinking clockwork. I board the beast as the smoke engulfs me. I am the smoke. Wispy. Peaceful. I float downstream without a care in the world. And then struck by the meteor! Shattering of sanity! You knave, you - you villain from behind the Veil, give it back to me! You will not plunge me into darkness yet.

A cry of a bird wakes me for the last time. Infinity draws to a close. My friend, my raven, what do you do, dallying on the line all day. Do you see the grey skies of the Big City? The shimmering of clotheslines that last but an instant? The loveable ants speaking to each other in thoughts only the wind can read, as they walk on down the road. Empty seat. Grab it. The race begins. Flash of dazzle. Mundane gleam of gold. The window goes by, beast whirs to life and…away, away it whisks.

The Window!

Ah, my soul! The Window!

Do not! Not yet.

 

Let me in…cried the butcher’s boy. The cry of the motorcar haunting his dreams. There is no escape from this hell. I have crafted thee to perfection.

Dark star, give life to the forsaken heavens above!

Swing by the holding bars. One to the other – hop and skip, swing with a dee-daddle in your legs. Like a lilt on the breeze that the moth rides upon tonight. Out we go into the maze of life. The Humanity rises in cuboids all around me. Houses of dreams and nightmares in equal measures, who am I to look beyond your veil into the alleyways of your soul. 

Coffee. Black. Hail the cab. The carriage. Good morning milady. Wherefore does this bright day draw you forth? Speeding across the highway. Ah, the wait is misery. Who am I. Back to the sea must I go. The waves, crashing and swamping in a torrential fury that mirrored the other-self. Azure, though. So blue, flat and deep. Its circles of wealth and understanding is where the journey lies. Such azure, under skies of gold. This is my homeland, ma. The Window on the West, have I found thee yet?

The seas that I have seen

Time, the greatest of them

 

I counted them today, as yesterday

On the fingers of my toes

Hum. Hum. Hum. Mhmmmmmm. The sweet lilt of jazz. Tap those feet. Straighten that tie. Hat, check. Professionally walk into an elevator. Or is that a lift. Caesar cares not! Elevator music. Tring-a-ding. Reach the top floor. Top floor, you say, my old chum. There are floors toppermost than your dreams would lead you to believe. Horatio and all that sort of thing. Never shy away from the heart. You’ll always be a schmucky adolescent anyway.  Wait, zoom back. The universe awaits, Master. You say, are you ready for adventure? Hang on a mo-

Yes. Done deal. All business ready for the shipping docks, monsieur? Good day to ya, and let speedboost be banished. It’s time I headed out. The purple Wild, in its early autumnal bloom, and the wildflower so sweet – ah, so sweet! – there shall be the meeting place. The Romance of our times, acted out against the shadow of the Leery One and victory will be Time’s and Time’s alone. But to escape the machine. Boy, I tell ya.

The Window on the West, on the edge of the Sea, I shall seek thee yet.

A Parabola at the End of Time

Here's a nice lil' ditty I whipped up during today's maths lecture, while the rest of my mind meandered along the boundaries of double integration.

A lone chrysanthemum stood,
In those desolate fields,
Greeted the weary traveler
As though an old friend;
"Hark," quoth he,
or so thought the traveler.
He knew no better,
that blinkered soul,
for he was the Man from the Parabola.

Sunday Afternoon

It was just after lunchtime. I’d been doing a spot of math before this, and didn’t quite intend to tread those murky waters again, quite yet. So I simply plonked down on my bed, lay back and picked up To Kill a Mockingbird. I don’t quite remember why I’d dropped reading it a few years back; it’s really nice. Now that I think about it, I recall starting on it on a Sunday afternoon, not quite unlike this one. But as it was exam time, and recreational activities, of force, had to be limited, the book was left behind and drifted off into the recesses of hazy memory.

Anyway, to return to the present, a sudden gust of wind blasted through the windows. I’m talking about a real gust! The closed shutters were thrown back to the max, the curtains made headway for the sky and streaming streaks of golden light flooded the room. My bed happens to be situated right next to the windows and boy, I tell ya, it’s a sight to behold when it gets like this. A refreshing breeze rushing through your hair and that warm sunlight, made even more beautiful by the netting and curtains getting in its way!

I switched off the tube light. Ugh, that cold, clammy light had no place here. And I lay there for a while, reading the ol’ book, and soaking in that wonderful aura of a sunny afternoon. And I could feel myself getting drowsy. It wasn’t that I was particularly sleepy, just at peace. That’s all it takes apparently.

I tell ya, it’s moments like these – all these Sunday afternoons at SIT – that make the stay here worthwhile. Just a sphere of peace and redemption, blocking out the all the dreariness of this world.

Unbeknownst to my conscious mind, I drifted off into sleep. And when I woke up, the first thing I saw was the sunlight falling on me from the edge of the window. Just from the corner of my eyes at first and then, tracking spots of warmth on my leg, the rest of the sunbeams falling on me. And my golden bedcover too, which results in quite the ethereal look through my misty, sleep-handed eyes. And I couldn’t believe it was almost 6 o’ clock!

I just stood in front of the windows for some time, and then the ones in the corridor too. Marvelling at the view. Then, feeling quite braced, I sat down and did a bunch of Laplace transformations. And trust me when I say that a force which can inspire a chap to transform some Laplaces is a rare force indeed!

Song of the Day, if you will

Ah, this one seems perfect. As I lay here, going through the same ol’ existential crisis that SIT offers, I find solace in these passing things. It’s especially soaring if you hear the rest of Quadrophenia before it. Man, really moves ya.

Love, reign o’er me. I hope.

Love Reign O'er Me - The Who, from Quadrophenia

Numero Uno

The blog seems to be all set up. The waters are being tested, so to speak. And yet, no word on the monumentally epic thing that we've gotta do to make this semester a tad more bearable. Can't let Santy fall prey to the darker powers.

Tomorrow's a new day and all. Rather flat though, what with back-to-back BEEE and maths. Dhande's sadistic drawl gets more unbearable by the day.

In other news, T has been rumoured to have said something along the lines of "I'm quitting CS forever!" (You'll just have to imagine the dramatic background music on that one, sorry.) Is this the end of the world?!

Stay tuned, I guess.