Mate I need a little assistance?
Mate: Yes, tell me friend, how may I help you?
I need to get out of this factory. I don't want to count these boxes anymore; I am done with all this.
Mate: Well, you have been working for so many years now. You never asked for a rest, what happened all of a sudden?
I don't know. May be I am a little tired. Maybe I am realizing it now.
Mate: Hmmm… for how long you have been working here?
I am not sure, may be for more than 25 years.
Mate: When was the last time you slept?
He went back in his memory lane, but can't recall anything, so he replied in a humble tone,
"I can't remember"?
Mate: Alright! I guess night is the best time to slip out, as there may not be many people around, you move out through that broken window of confidence, and follow the light of stars, keep moving and you will find the way. (After a pause) But remember one thing friend, wherever you go, you will not be able to escape these boxes. There will always remain a little past in our present.
He silently changed his uniform, put some casual clothes on, and moved out of the factory, following the directions suggested to him by his mate. Without any definite plan he walked down the lane. He was looking down on the droplets of rain, and was trying to figure out his existence in those broken pieces of hope that were amusingly disappearing under the stare of sun.
Hey you? He heard a voice.
He turned to look around.
Voice: What are you looking at?
How do you know, I was here? He replied angrily.
Voice (joyously): Your past told me, I met him there in the factory and you know he is still counting those boxes.
Leave me alone for a while.
Voice: At your command, let me know, when I am required.
He dogged his head in silence and waited for bus… Finally, the bus arrived.
Driver: Where do you want to go brother?
He looked at the driver and remained silent.
Driver: Right, here is your band number. Find yourself a place to sit.
He looked around the bus, which was filled with passengers of time.
Hey you! Young man, come sit here. An elderly voice came from behind, loud enough to make him obey his command. He went and sat next to an old gentleman who was murmuring while reading newspaper.
Elderly Voice: Free will… Blah! Blah… (While reading an article in newspaper) we talk about it all the time, we carve about it but what irritates me is, that we never think about it. All my life I have been changing buses. I asperse family traditions, sick religion, dogmatic customs… So sick I was, that one day I decided escape the cage, and set myself 'Free', so I created this bubble from the fabric of guts and floated it into a vivid wide sky. It was an overwhelming experience, till one day, I asked myself a question. What if I was born in a different environment? I mean with no family, no tradition, and no opportunity? What I would have fought for then? What would have been my definition of freedom? May be I might have carved for family, or looked for guidance of God, or prayed for everything I have left. How can something which depends upon external manifestation of internal conflict be free?
Ahhhhh… Son, we fight to liberate one particular thought from another, without realizing that what we are left in the end is also, nothing but a THOUGHT.
Anyways Son! What's your name?
He thought and thought hard, but was not able to recall his name, so he remained quite.
Elderly Voice: It happens, son, it happens.
The driver applied the breaks, and on the windshield flashed a message, "Reality", driver turned back and shouted. Anyone who wants to get down at Reality? Hearing a dumb response, he accelerated.
Reality… Huh! Who wants to get down at reality, it's a frightening place. Nothing there is colorful, there are no real emotions, nothing is exaggerated, and there is no fanciful talk of love. All you have is Mirrors, and some big mirrors. Who wants a place like that?
He was listening quietly to the experience, not thinking only listening.
Elder Voice: Son, you can come to my place, we can have a cup of chai together. I live in beautiful home, full of boxes, All type of boxes, red, green, yellow, blue, every size, every shape and every color.
Boxes… he said to himself, and immediately got up, and went straight to the driver, "please stop the bus".
Driver applied the breaks and he got down, the eye of an old man kept staring at him, but he didn't look up.
He stood there silently for few hours, and than started to walk again, the pace of his steps were slow. He was in his own imagination, when his chain of thoughts was broken by an angry man in his mid40's. He was walking furiously while screaming.
Man in mid 40's: Everyone has their own definition of life. Everyone thinks whatever they are doing is right and the other person is a fool. It's a selfish and insecure world, which silently whispers, "Let the world burn, as long as my home is safe from fire". We just care about ourselves. Love, compassion, care all are accessories of literature. We live in a world, where every truth is a hidden lie.
Man in mid 40's: Hey Mister! You have any idea where the factory of boxes is?
He quietly waves his arm in the direction of his past.
Man in mid 40's: Thank you Mister!
He remains undisturbed by the claims of an angry man, and march towards his journey with broken steps. He hears a sound of bike approaching towards him; he turns around and sees a youngster in his early teen.
Teen: Hey, I am going to get a tattoo done, you want a ride?
He acknowledged the spirit and joined the future.
Teen: I stole the bike from my Papa, actually, I mixed a little bit of lie in his drink, so he will be asleep for at least couple of hours…(Giggling)… He accelerated the speed, and shouted.
Teen: Woo Hooo ..I a am Bird!
Teen parks his bike outside a tattoo shop which reads, "Boxes-All types of body sketches from eve to evil are made here"…
Teen: Hey! Wanna join in??
He shakes head in disapproval, and walked away. The journey was already proving long and tiring.
"Hello Mister", he heard a voice. He looked around but no one was there. "I am here. Look up", in the leaves of a banyan tree was hiding a saintly figure, though not clearly visible but perfectly audible.
Saint: I am hiding here. Running away from desire, can you see him anywhere around.
He looked, and silently shook his.
Saint: Good, first I thought that desire ends its journey with an accomplishment of dream, but I was wrong. Honestly! I, myself, cannot understand why people keep searching desires in Dreams. You know, most people don't understand what they want. They always have an idea of what they think they want, and this is the main reason why they keep running. They sweat, bleed, strive, stumble and finally reach the boxes.
But the real fun starts, when they start opening them. First few boxes bring them the sense of joy and fulfillment, but as they keep digging deep they realize that, this is not what they were after and then they are left with "massive emptiness". After there tireless pursuits, they are left with only confusion and the wilderness. At that time, some turn to spirituality and other keep running thinking that this is reality.
A desire can be controlled only by a stronger desire, in other words it cannot be controlled (*Wink Wink).
Anyways, I have been where you are headed, from next lane, take the right turn and you will reach open farms.
He quietly acknowledged the saint and rushed towards the given instruction.
Hi, glad you made it. I welcome you to the land of free will. I am the Gate keeper.
Gate keeper: Sir, May I see your documents, the resignation letter from past?
He pulls out a paper from his pocket and hands it over.
Gate Keeper: Thanks!
Welcome, may you have safe and enjoyable stay here.
He enters a huge open, breezy, colorful, fountain lighted, and musically enigmatic park. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He observes things, while feeling the freshness of air and comfort of music.
Gate Keeper: Sir, I hope you are having a good time here?
He acknowledged gatekeeper with a smile, and flew around with his newly found enthusiastic wings. His senses were filled with spirit of individuality, time had no meaning, and gravity was nonsense. The walls were missing and the imagination was undisturbed. This is where he wanted to be, he said to himself. And this is where he was, he reminded himself.
But suddenly the wax of fantasy melted in the eyes of truth. He hit the ground, and realizes that he has been here before, only the shape was different, but structure was the same. He turns right and sees...Boxes... All type of boxes, red, green, yellow, blue every size, every shape and every color.