Here, is my frenzy. On a long track for runners and romantics. I belong to the former
but at times I can’t resist a beautiful sunset over this vast and placid lake. The locals call it Sankey Tank, it opens twice a day. I like to come in the evenings. I park my scooter outside, plug my earphones, and run till I reach a runner’s high. The sensation is pleasant, I can feel the layers of my brain unfurl. On typical days, almost harmonious with nature. I once saw a black swan flap its wings and dance on the surface of the lake. Another time a solitary duckling. I found a certain joy when I came across an abandoned boat on an unbuilt end of the lake. A part of me wanted to sit and row but I anticipated an immediate whistle of the security and forgot the fantasy.
Today, I came at 5 pm. The lake connects two sides of Bangalore, the industrious mortals of Malleswaram and the aristocratic natives of Sadashivnagar. I like to enter from Malleshwaram and reach the other end, an unceasing runway of 2km. To and fro, pacing at 9km/hr as the app says. I run for 40 minutes. They are trying to make the track greener by planting shrubs on the sidewalk. Although the walkway is divided into two tracks for joggers and walkers, nobody complies with this. I wish they did but I myself don’t. I like to run by the lake sometimes, by the tapering reflection of the setting sun and being there just out in the open. Today was one such day, I am recalling the day through this meditative state from a future realm where I made a few friends along the way.
We will soon get there.
I didn’t expect my laces to unlace. Neither had I planned on wearing running shorts whose pocket zips snipped last week. I usually make a playlist before I begin, today I played it on shuffle. A few stretches right and left, hands to toes, shoulders and necks and I was good to go with a little brisk. Then I pace, then I run. My long legs beat on the ground in a rapid rhythm. I couldn’t pocket my phone, I was afraid it would fall into the lake to my left. So I held it in my hand, clutched my fingers and ran like a maniac. The sleek design of an iPhone could possibly slip because of sweat on my palms, perhaps I didn’t think. When my right lace untangled near the curvy track, I felt my shoe loosen. I tried to stop but I erratically stumbled and lost the grip of my phone in my body’s defence to save my head. My iPhone propelled in the air. Two drops of sweat juddered on the ground as my knees scratched and slid. I heard the waggle of the ducks and — bloop, my iPhone sunk.
I could feel the weight of it descend to the bottom. Bubbles, with it the proof of my existence as Aaron. “You okay?”, said a lady in sari and boots. “No.” I pushed myself up, I tightened my shoes and I felt an impulse. My Bluetooth earphones disconnected in a minute. I shook off the dust and I dared to run trying to forget the phone, trying to forget the fall. But how would I return, to the lecture notes and iTunes. Videos and live photos. To exquisite wallpapers of the iPhone, to its logo, to its luxury and to a life it promised.
The damage was done, I dared to run.
I ran in vigour, I ran in temper. I reached the slow-paced end of Sadashivnagar, aunties and old men with their younger ones. Almost everyone held an iPhone here with glossy back glasses and the latest AirPods. I can retrieve the data anyways, I thought. Only if I buy an Apple again. Trap. Can I forget myself? I was so accustomed to iOS. Wait, don’t think too ahead. Something can be done said my guilty heartbeat. When I reached the end, I took a U-turn I felt a shift in my conscience. I heard a faint murmur. This side of the city was much at peace. I sat on the bench facing Sankey lake, hot rays of sun shining on everyone. When I closed my eyes, I forgot there was a children’s park behind. A shed on my left with valiant flowers and creepers and the half-built road to my right. The sun rays turned pink inside the flesh and skin of my eyelid. I was sweating. I took two conscious breaths and I was invited to a mysterious realm. There were no people here, only a presence. A voice but no speaker. I counted as many as three meditating souls sparsely spaced in the ethereal space.
“We will call you Aaron just for reference”, they said.
Here, I could communicate but there were no words. As if everything I had to say was only to be discovered. We only spoke in sense and gist, in a world nowhere in a world within. I rose above the human realm, I saw the pink in my eyes turn black then white. I had a feeling beyond my skin, my jittery legs finally ceased. The meaning condensed into an emotion, more like an artsy delusion. When I read a French Philosopher — cogito ergo sum. Damn, I think therefore I am. They spoke again, perhaps the futile attempts of my brain. A meaning reached and corrected me, ‘I am, therefore I think.’ Despite my eyes severely closed I felt a waking blink.
“Aaron, do you look?”… I pardoned and felt a flushing light touch my feet. My iPhone but I muted the voice. From above, the lake was transparent, the atmosphere was purple. Our presence was in an absence. Anything could happen. Look at my soul, look at Aaron who’s trying to rest. Excellent.
“I am another voice from Malleswaram. Meditating under a tree on the other side.” I grasped. “I am connected as I jog, I don’t have to sit. I know how to breathe.” From the top, three presences were spaced on the edges of the beautiful lake, including their bodies, including me.
“Aaron, how do you feel? Is there confusion, is there a loss?” Maybe the iPhone, maybe my identity, maybe a maybe. Go on, try to think. Ideas and semantics. He just lost a formless form. Oh, the loss of forms. You have made it here, you surely can. I heard the bloop from beneath, an echo of impulses from a world of temptations. Glad I had a choice. ‘Tell me when you didn’t?’
I have an alteration — I am. I just think. Bravo, trumpets and snare.
“You may change a phone, but don’t change thee,” said the gushing voice. “When you go back the loss may repeat.” Why are you people here? — why is our essence here, is that what you mean? Maybe. We are only learning to be. I can channel the energy into the world down there. Are you borrowing? No, like a human I eat. So a form for a form. No, a form to reform. Look Aaron, you are still wired. How do you prove it? Just don’t think. A luminous sunset, a long trail of ducks. My being pulverised into experiences. Purple boat on a purple lake in a purple landscape. I finally rowed and there was no one to whistle. Can I dip my hand and fetch the phone? I tried, I was amorphous, it was forbidden. The lady was trying to forget what she could possibly be. A mother if things had gone right. She was experiencing climbing the phenomenal tree she was underneath. The running man’s soul let it slip that his business could never recover. He squatted on the railing and flipped into the water to swim among ducks and ducklings. We were happening, in dreams and in melancholy of times. Anything could happen, do our choices tell us about our confines?
Another french thought polluted this place — we are condemned to be free. There is rarely any will. Pardon me, but your subjectivity sucks. Try a different lens, you may find only that what you seek. Hence try to forget. Or remember a former state of yours, an unchanging flame that says — I am.
We passed each other, we pervaded through matter. Form of all forms, few more breaths until we go back later. Here is where our souls encounter, meditations and alterations. A puffball of dandelions. Blow it, we are almost like it. When we launch down into our bodies, I will begin with the trickle of my toes. A sensation that follows. My being brimming at the edge of my skin. When we pass each other, the man and the lady may skip a beat. A lapse in memory. When I opened my eyes, I no more felt handicapped. I survived my nullification by an iPhone. I will explain it to dad. Presently, I need to get home. I can access the realm and meet the meditating souls everywhere. Formless yet evolving as we breathe, here is our fleeting frenzy. In the here, indeed.
