LOST

I became the master of the terrain because my guide had let go of my hand.

It was all about exploring the unchartered terrain. Strength was mustered in the confidence garnered by the assurance of his presence. He walked in front armed with a stick and a sickle, ready to cut off any unwanted obstacle. The woods, as I had read were ‘dark and deep’. I could not find any relevance to it being lovely. The creepers constantly kept getting entwined in my feet and I was unable to keep pace with his swift habitual movements. Sometimes I could sense some unwanted presence, which I felt always creeped up behind me. It symbolized something evil and cold. I often stopped and looked back, trying to shrug off the unwelcome coldness, and then continue on the trail.And then one day he just left. I knew I was unable to keep up, but guides were not supposed to desert their responsibilities. I never imagined even in my wildest dreams that I would be left thus, standing helpless, looking at his receding back which did not even make an effort to explain this drastic change of plans. As I saw him disappear, I was weighed down with an unbearable heaviness. The call of the crickets magnified manifold and throbbed in my head. I seemed to be completely enmeshed in a damp mossy curtain of green. I had no clue which path to take, for none seemed to lead me anywhere.

The only conclusion was death. I contemplated on it, and rejected the thought. I resolved to walk the path ahead which snaked its way into some unknowingness. I trudged along. It becomes dark much before evening in the forest, is a truth I discovered that day. Silence and darkness gripped me from all sides. I did not wish to go ahead nor did I wish to turn back for I knew that an equal intensity of blackness engulfed my path. I crouched down at the base of a tree and looked up. The perpendicular trunk seemed to stretch into eternity, rising above all odds to kiss the heavens. After a certain distance the sloping branches blocked my view of what I imagined to be the Heavens. For a fleeting moment I craved for the Golden Gate, but I knew how futile it would be, for I was already denied entry. What greater purpose was I hear for? Suddenly my train of musings were broken by the noise of something heavy treading on the fallen leaves. I looked at the slope behind me, panic-stricken. The black solid wall frightened me. It maddened me for I was being dragged into an unknown abyss. I was scared. Too scared to cry. My eyes burnt in the impenetrable darkness, trying to perceive some presence, which I was convinced of. My heart burnt with fear and hatred, that was born out of the solitary state I was thrust into. And somewhere in the middle of this psychological mayhem I slipped into erratic slumber, punctuated by wakeful moments that were too tiresome to be prolonged. I cringed all night long near the tree, too cold to stretch my aching limbs. And somewhere adhering to the infallible law of the great cosmos, the night passed. The sky cleared, and the birds twittered; a sound that woke me from a very painful sleep. I sat up, slightly dazed. Tired and eventually letting the whole unpalatable truth sink in once more. I looked around. No animals were to be seen. I had no idea what the agenda was for the day.

I rummaged my haversack and took out some provisions to eat. As I ate, glancing around myself, I realised that I had not relieved myself for hours, ever since the man had disappeared. It was fear that had actually a reverse effect on me, than the expected. The easing away of the initial terror and gradual acceptance of my fate brought my metabolism back to order somewhat, and for the first time I relieved myself in the open, trying my best to bury myself deep into the curtain of foliage. The sudden hoot of a monkey however put an end to the process but I got stuck about the cleaning procedure. The leaves repelled me, and water was scarce. Yet I decided to risk my supplies followed by a liberal dose of sanitizer, still the feeling of filth sticking to me persisted with every movement. I started to walk. And in about an hour I had learnt to live with at least that adversity. And soon, I was blissfully oblivious. I walked and walked. For I had nothing else to do. I just wanted to get away from this maze of greenery which had started to appal me. I loved a clear stretch where I could get a glimpse of the clear sky, which I had come to notice, off late. The colour is a pristine blue I had never seen before, and I loved staring at it. It gave me a sense of relief from the claustrophobia of the nights. I wandered in the forest for days. And slowly, even I do not realise when, I became rather accustomed to its embracing presence around me. A couple of days into my exquisite journey, I had exhausted my food supplies. I was at a sheer loss. The thought of imminent death loomed over me once more. I was at faced the dilemma of the cross road once again: whether to take the risk and survive, or whether to die a cowardly death. I presumed myself dead already, and decided to take the plunge. A few inquisitive langurs had started to become my regular companions. Though initially, I could not spot them always but I was keenly aware of their masked presence. However, within a window of 72 hours my senses had become sharp enough to spot them. I could even follow them, and they would let me be in their vicinity, provided I maintained a respectful distance. I observed the trees they would climb and feast on the fruits. Much to my amazement they avoided some of the fruits, while some they considered as a loaded dinner table. I would often sit at a distance watching the arboreal feast before trying to clumsily climb up the branches to access my food. I was a complete failure there. So often I had to forage from the ground. Pangs of hunger drove me to consider the half-eaten fruits as my options. I tried to bite on the side which had not been contaminated to pacify my growling stomach. In this process I picked up some terrible virus that attacked my frail digestive system. By then I had mastered the art of defecating anywhere without inhibitions. I lay under a tree, groaning. Too weak to even think. It is during this period that two amazing things happened to me.

I found a friend in a langur. He would patiently sit near me. I spotted him on a branch or even at a distance he dared to approach an ailing woman. He just sat there and stared at me. Once he even rolled me a fruit. I could not believe my eyes. Was I being inducted in the jungle ecosystem? Abandoned by my own kind, was I getting assimilated in an ecosystem I always admired from a distance? I turned my face away from the ball of poison which had landed me in this condition. The primate remained there looking at me fixatedly and then suddenly ran on all fours and disappeared behind a veil of foliage. I was suddenly seized with panic. Was danger lurking close somewhere? A lurch in my belly reminded me of the retreating back of the homo-sapien who had deserted me in this God-forsaken forest. I closed my eyes tight, surrendering to fate. But somewhere I had a glimmer of hope. I had not died in this God-forsaken land. In fact, I had survived situations which would have been unthinkable in an urban scenario. A woman of my age would not have survived unscathed spending so many nights wandering unknown streets alone. The predators were many. Maybe, I realised, this was actually God’s own land and felt more protected. A sudden bout of physical nausea seized me and my stomach knotted in pain. The fruit was still lying close to me. My throat was parched. I gathered all my strength and propped myself on my arms and sat upright. I picked up the fruit and closed my eyes before biting into it. Immediately, I sensed some movement in the branches above. Terse, I looked up. My faithful companion, had silently come back to me and had placed himself near my head. The sense of reassurance that ran through me like a torrent was so intense that I cannot express it in words. I simply broke down and cried. I cried inconsolably. Years of pent up emotions found their way back into the soil as I broke down. And then the reaction started. I vomited. Feeling weaker than ever, a dragged myself from under the tree, my refuge, which I now had soiled. I knew there was a stream nearby where I needed to sooth myself after retching and I was used to drinking from there. I started to crawl on all fours, inching my aching body towards the brook. By a sudden sound of something lithe falling on the dried foliage I could gather that my partner did not wish to desert me in my moment of distress. To me, what appeared like eons later I reached the banks of the stream and lay down. It was a moonlit night. I cupped out some silver from the flowing pool and splashed it over my face. It soothed me and I drank. I sat on the bank hugging my legs close to my breast. My friend had come and sat close to me. Together we looked ahead into the impenetrable darkness of the forest that lay ahead. I felt safe in his presence. Neither of us were scared of what lay ahead. The unknown now failed to bother us. There was hope in the shadowy foliage, for behind the dark veil of black lay the promise of fresh green. We knew the inevitable truth would expose itself with the first rays of the golden sun. A light breeze was blowing. My wet face made me shiver slightly with every touch of the air. I turned to my companion and smiled. The muscles ached slightly. I do not remember how long I had not used them. He looked back at me, the ripples of the moonlit water sparkling in his honest eyes. I felt like holding his hand.

True, I must confess, that often my body ached for a touch that can only be satisfied by a human, but today, I have learnt to live without it. To rise above personal satisfactions, by trying to give more to those who have been with me in my times of need. The moonlit night, surreal in its being, brought forth some timeless realizations.

Black is not an omen. It is sometimes the best canvas that reveals the brightest colour contrasts. The best companions are not always bipeds. And the receptacle to pour our love into is not always a human. One must be grateful for the nature.

As the moon shone down on us, we sat there in silent communion. The little white flowers on the river bank, more pristine in the moonshine trembled as the wind caressed them and moved on to the darkness ahead. Little things that previously repelled me now comforted me. I found a soothing relief being away from the humdrum of my urban life. I was intoxicated, drenched in the silvery wine to seriously contemplate a life with my faithful partner beside me. One who was there as my bulwark when the world resembled a black-hole trying to lace my existence in its quietus catalysts. I wanted to make my world here. In this perfect place where fear did not exist. The stars twinkled above us, perhaps in mockery at the human race which always craved for something it did not have a chance of possessing. Languor overcame my fruitless thoughts and I lay down trying to benignly get close to the simian. He stirred, but did not appear shaken by the approach. I fell asleep more assured of myself than ever. I was now in love. I loved the forest, in all its hues. I loved the sky in its azure, it’s golden, its vermillion and its blackness. And I loved the animals. They had saved my life. Period. I wanted to live now, and I wanted to love my new found passions endlessly. They were the chalice where I intended to pour out my heart. I knew I needed no one else. Burnt..but learnt… And serenely happy. Metamorphosed. One might say.

That morning I shed my inhibitions as easily as my dirty clothes and stood naked in broad daylight under the sky. The flock of parrots that screeched above spared no thought of me. My simian friend had disappeared and I did not care about any eye that was watching me. I took slow and confident steps into the rivulet and sat where I was immersed up to a considerable height. I remained there for a long time, for time was the least of my issues. The cool waters were inviting, and after days I felt clean. I washed away the blood stains that had resulted from scratches and insect bites. I washed away the dirt that caked my hand and neck. When I stepped back out, I felt lighter, in body and soul.

I lingered on in the forest, deliberately dragging my foot for a couple of days. I must have developed immunity for I comfortably survived on the wild fruits walking on the beautiful fresh dew-drenched carpet, which I often dared, barefoot. Sometimes I cut myself on the brown and tawny grass. Even the mosquitoes and insects were welcome. It was just the crests and troughs of life. But I was now seriously in love with the trajectory that my fate had decided to follow.

But God is not particularly pleased with the human race I believe. He shows us the beautiful nuances of life and then snatches it away, when we start treasuring them and fearing their loss. On an idle walk with the mellow sun setting behind the strong line of trees at a distance, I suddenly came across a clearing. I watched a skein of geese make their way home somewhere. I did not even bother any force to guide me back to where I belonged. At the far end of the clearing unmistakably loomed a construction. It was a plush jungle resort. My journey had come to an end. Even though I did not wish to but the Lord’s command was that I moved back to my own world. I bid my new found world a temporary goodbye, longing, craving to get a glance of my masked friend, who I was too scared to leave behind and never meet without a gesture of love conveyed. But he would not be seen here.

Too many monkeys were seen on the trees nearby and a few elephants I could see tethered to wooden pins, resigned to their gory fate of entertaining tourists. The moment I spotted their mahouts, I realised they were looking at me with wide-eyed wonder. I approached them and asked for the entrance to the resort, which they indicated with their hand……………