Om…hello, am I speaking with Om? Om, Hi… ___ here…you remember me…I don’t know why I am calling you today…but can we meet…sure, I will drop in this moment…

(in a daze) He spoke as if he had known all along, that one day I shall turn towards him…

I didn’t ask him what time…well, he asked me to visit him this moment…why this moment…as if the world was being visited by a special moment…which was going to brush away the accumulated dust off our hearts and minds…

Anyway, onward to Om’s house…

(Om opens the door)

Hey, Om…

Not much has changed except his face, which seems to bear a permanent expression of some sort of complete realization…

Om, I wanted to..Om…are you there…

he is there but not there…why isn’t he talking…he is guiding me…taking me with him…where…Om, where are we headed? Om, why don’t you speak?

(Noticing the lifeless, miniature serpent)

Hey…the eyes…the eyes of the serpent….their circularity and inlaid patterns…

(flabbergasted) Hey, what’s that Om? The eyes are popping out…what’s that….How grotesque? Ommmmmmmm, where are you goinggggggg?

God, he is treading right into the serpent’s opened eyes….the eyes are no longer the small, innocuous ones….instead they extraordinarily expand….and beckon me too into its recesses….do I have a choice? Am I scared? The worst possibility being the end…it would be quite an end….Bring it on!!!

Om, wait for me man…

(follows Om into the serpent’s eye)

No space. No movement. No light. No darkness. No walls. Some subtle tremors. What do I hear? The distant speeding away of a mail train….the tiresome groans of a bullock trudging clumsily in the field of great produce….the perplexed murmurs of the new-born….the sweetness of the possibilities of love…

And, what do we have here? Staid clocks…all around….these seem amputated….then what purpose do they serve….let me touch one, since all seem accessible….touch 12….

I see below me the view of the current world at 12…it’s exactly 12…not a second here, not a second there….Still there is movement in the seemingly stationary 12….the birds are flying…the projector in the theatre rolls…a part of the world bids the day goodbye by plunging into deep sleep….ghosts traverse in search of terror….it’s 12….

Hey, there’s also a vast expanse of screen and on it are projected a series of photographs…each capturing every millimeter of movement, of action, of thoughts, yikess, thoughts…all are strung together..

Nothing escapes scrutiny here…everything remains there as it is, till you end…and one film gets archived till a new journey begins in another form…and a new film begins….

Hushhhhhhhhhhh. Faint tremors. The surroundings make its presence felt. The images shut off. The voices repeat themselves….

Om appears…he brushes past me…his gait seems so natural as if he belongs here…as if he is the link…as if he works for a larger enterprise….he halts just when this thought makes its way into my mind…he nods in approval of my conjecture…gives a beatific smile…

As both of us step out, the grotesque serpent regains its original shape…Om leads me towards the door, our relationship having transcending the quotidian curtsies…I turn to give a glance of gratitude…he has vanished into his own enigmatic cocoon…I turn to go, feeling different trying in vain to decipher the import of this surreal adventure….

* *  * *

‘Words are all I have, the rest is quite expensive’, is all that comes to
Gerish’s (Author) mind, while surveying the world around. Gerish, a Mass Media
graduate has been determinedly pursuing theatre since 4 years. He regards
himself as an amateur rambler, an amateur thespian and a hungry theatre
practitioner who is in quest of self-fulfillment through stage, which to him
is a familiar parallel universe.

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