Its mid-noon of june! The humidity in kolkata is at extreme. You can easily see the transition of a white cotton shirt to an opaque sheet draped over body within a span of half an hour. I often read in such hot sultry afternoons. Having a mid week off I am stretching body in the bed wid headphones on and a copy of the krishna key in hand.
The constant battle between the existence of krishna as mythological figure or historic is in to nerves. The facts and proofs churn the brain but the belief since childhood makes it more of a mythological god than someone who existed thousands of years ago.Cold air from cooler was working half its purpose.
The constant battle between the existence of krishna as mythological figure or historic is in to nerves. The facts and proofs churn the brain but the belief since childhood makes it more of a mythological god than someone who existed thousands of years ago.Cold air from cooler was working half its purpose.
Amidst my lost connscience into a world or Tarak vakil and its word-arranged Lord Krishna, I took a glance at my window which happened to be right in front and by side lied a small side table.It was a glance that still gives me nightmares. A tall human in prehistoric clothes and atleast a feet beard, gazing over me with red burning eyes. The look was not like the one that your beloved gives you when you reach home. It was as scary as seeing your eyeballs hanging from your own eye sockets. Within seconds I was drenched in sweat. Before I could make sense of it, There was a kid sitting at my side table. A kid possibly two or three years old and smile and some kind of assurance in that.
It wasn't world of Krishna or Tarak Vakil, it was my room, locked, a guy with a scare and stare that can burn and a kid mysteriously sitting at my side table.
I was drenched and fearful as hell. It was too much of abnormal to deal with all of a sudden. Within a fraction of second, I saw a hand approaching towards me from the window, Just a fist. well, I have seen various movies with such shit, but this was a time when shit actually got real. In addition, I was paralysed. I couldn't move. Tears rolling from eyes and bedsheet totally drenched in sweat. A corner of the eye and I see the kid from table smiling. I was brain frozen.
A fierce punch on my chest and that kid's hand in between. I felt a blow that still makes me wake up from sleeps but a mellowed down one. Two hands extending where one comes from window and other from far in the corner, a brain frozen, a bedsheet drenched. A huge blow on my chest I stopped breathing.
When I opened my eyes, felt like I slept for longer than expected. The krishna key lying beside with a page open and various seals imprinted. Bedsheet was drenched and doors were shut. There was no one window and no kid smiling at the corner table. My chest pained. I took off my shirt to see the Iron tabeez I wore. It was smashed into pieces. A proof freaking enough to make one shit in pants. It wasn't a dream of a sultry afternoon. I had pictures of broken tabeez for a longer time but the fear and experience will go to the grave.I still wonder at times about the kid, the guy with beards,the two extending hand and that fierce blow on my chest.
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