The causes of even the smallest event are virtually infinite and connected with the whole in incomprehensible ways. if you wanted to trace back the cause of the event you would have to go back all the way to AN ORDER and this is not an order the human mind can easily comprehend, though it may glimpse it sometimes. It is higher ORDERS. When we don't interfere with nature and let things be, we see life everywhere. Then the voices of silence come and you glimpse that higher order. In an Itopian place nothing can go wrong. It is a perfect place, where everything is by the higher order 😦 and could not be other than the higher order and you feel a sense of liberation (a happy state of existance ) where the voices in your head are not who you are, but of the higher order.
Two letters lay side by side on the dinghy table in Tania's room. One was a ' letter of acceptance ' and the other was a ' letter of invitation '.Her brother was getting married and she had been invited! to the wedding. The first one was a post for job acceptance.Well, she had a job to do and she had to do it well. Tania worked as a salesgirl in a company named ' Sallisbury ' which made cosmetics for women. "Her feet ached from constant travelling from door to door, her muscles felt cramped. I(Tanya ) thought a warm bath and an early retirement to bed would solve the twin problems as she cooked rice, dal and vegetables to make a 'Khichdi '. Later I(Tanya ) sat on my bed to read the letters sent by my father, Mr.Pujari. He lived in a quaint, idyllic place in the far east of ' Chandanpur '. " Hurry to reach at the earliest, will you? He had written or that was what I(Tanya) could make out, from his gibberish kind of writing by reading the letter again and again to assure myself that I was not making any mistakes because there was a sentence which supposedly said " the pay is small but the accommodation is free ". I let it pass. My father may have had conflicting or contradicting thoughts and maybe he wrote the letter absentmindedly, my references to the ' sounds of silence ' or voices in the head of the higher order. 😦 He had enclosed a one-way railway ticket along with his letter. Next morning Tania rang her sad guru who was in the turmoil state of Jharkhand at that time. ' Why do you want to go ?' He said. I understood that it was not his wish that I attend the marriage. He didnot like my younger brother. But I went anyway. Duty is never still within gentle hearts and I am that. Chandanpur is a lovely old place with a recorded history that dated back to the times of the Moghuls. There are many moghul ruins in Chandanpur, which is a centre of tourist attraction. I wanted to see all that again. " Maybe I will find pots of hidden gold of the long dead Maharaja, Tania fantasised in her mind. A week latter found Tania travelling to Chandanpur with her books and bags of few essentials that she possessed. I (Tanya) watched the vast stretches of tilled and untilled fields of greenery, gold, violets and yellows with brown earth peeping from between them pass my vision in a blurred speed broken only by authorised and unauthorised stops and stations on my way. I had still not entered the idyllic, Itopian place. My father Mr.Pujari, was a modest landowner. He earned from his lands and his hobbies of dabbling in this and that which included traditional German medicines , a family culture. My old favourite room at the far corner of the east with a view of the rising sun was not to be my room anymore, I learned when I entered my room to keep my bags. I should have left but I didn't. You see duty is never still within gentle hearts. My younger brother's wife had expressed her wish to possess that room even after knowing it belonged to me. She was the latest star of my parents and she is the kind who has to have every damn thing she lays her beedy eyes on and my brother can hypnotise you right out of your property and bank balance . So I was relegated to the far corner of the west with a view of the setting sun. They said if you take your pictures with the setting sun you are sure to die within a year. That must have been the idea of the ' voices in the head' of the higher order. It was not the first time something like that had happened . Tanya remembered that it had been like that all her life. She was raised to please her family. Their pleasure and wellbeing always came before her own well being. She would give tuitions, save money and buy things, not for herself but for members of her family. But she never received any gift in return from them. Why? Because she was taught that when you give you give with an open heart and even your left hand should not know what you gave with your right hand. Tanya never questioned why such rules applied only to her. I (Tanya) pray that others may benefit from these experiences of mine, and that is why I talk about them. So whenever I sit down to write a story, my world itself becomes a story because what is that which is mine and what is that which I have not surrendered. When understanding is not present talk is needed in order to relate even if language is a poor means of communication. Mr.Pujari my father was under some kind of medication which he was told were vitamins. It was supposed to protect his body from the viruses which had caused his semollena disease. He was very sad. He had sensed they were killing him and laughing about it and the family was insensitive and cruel and joined hands with the killers. The doctors did the doctor things and conducted the doctor tests which cost huge amount of money. He recovered temporarily but lost his memory.The diagnostic centres, hospitals everybody kept their secrets and a lonely man suffered because he was rich and wanted to be in possession of his lifelong earnings till he lived. That was his sin. And everybody laughed a different kind of laugh. Tanya remembered her father's letters to her all those years back and his words swam infront of her eyes, "hurry to reach at the earliest, will you? Tanya was late. She could not reach in time because she had not got anything like 'independent learning '. They said all her ideas were the ideas of others.She had told her father to wait. She had to think. That waiting brought shocking relevations in her life. Her mother, the lady of the house, with a stony face was a difficult person to please.Finding fault was her second nature. She had played her hard to please game with Tanya's father and she played the same game of hard to please with Tanya.
Today's Society considers itself to be more advanced, but it is not genuine. It is lab manufactured like cultured pearls. People practice many tricks and games and they have many pretences and drama. The ancient wisdoms have vanished. It is by the voices of silence in the head they are guided not only in regards to their actions and speech but also in organising their thinking process and emotions. These orders maybe higher orders or maybe sounds of silences from all around and all direction and in so much chaos and echo you loose your connection with your own thinking process and make you feel like JIM CARREY. Tanya reached the Itopian place and she saw people as materialistic lunatics organised in groups passing judgements of condemnation,demonization, isolation, Material abductions,perjury, forgery etc She found those groups trying to solve problems with lack of sincerity, honesty, faithfulness and truthfulness. Tanya realised that it was a waste of energy to contemplate on such devils and avidyas and thereby put herself in stress. Now a much older Tanya sits in her westside dinghy dupley apartment in Chandanpur with a view of the setting sun, and write her memoirs. She is the prized lamb.