But please don’t.
Can you see? Can you see the moon? You want to ruin it? With bad news? You want to ravish it? With glad news?
Will you not let it be? Can you not let it be? Can you not just let be please? Look at it. Look up.
Or don’t. Suit yourself.
Let me go to sleep. It’s been too long a sleeplessness. It’s been too long that I have kept vigil. It’s been too long that I haven’t batted half an eyelid of half an eye. It’s been too long. Please.
Mahadeb. Mahadeb!! Where are you? Tell them. Tell them from where you are. Tell them from wherever you are. Tell them to let me sleep. Tell them to not wake me. Tell them of this fullness. Tell them of when you decide to wear this fullness reduced. You do, don’t you? When this fullness is reduced to a thinness, that is when you wear it. And you wear it divinely, of course and no doubt, but you do wear the thinness of this fullness. Tell them. Tell them a few truths. And tell them to let me sleep. I have no time. At least for the moment I have no time.
For bad news. For good news. For indifferent news. For news that is in the making, marinating, and will take yet more time to become news. Tell them. Please just tell them. I am tired of the news. Tell them not to wake me up. Tell them to just let me sleep. I need to rest. All of us do. Of course some of us do not realise this and shall later suffer for not realising, but they are them, and to them their lot and their destiny.
I need rest. So don’t wake me up. I looked to the skies. I saw this thing. I saw this celestial thing. And there is nothing I need to see. There is nothing I need to know. I am done. For a few days, at least. In a few days what you see up there too will be a bit done. But today. Or tonight. Just let me sleep. Having seen.
Some things have been coming. Some things have been going. I am not sure. I cannot be sure. It is not in my capacity to be sure. But it most certainly is in my capacity to not to care or to be bothered. I don’t care. I am not bothered.
One thing follows another. That I know. A good thing follows a not so good thing. Or it follows a bad or a terrible thing. And then that bad or terrible thing gets followed by other things. Things that are not so bad, or not so terrible.
There is, for instance, Krishnapaksha. A turn to darkness. An inevitable turn to darkness. No matter what you do, no matter what you believe, no matter what you pray, no matter what you wish. A turn to darkness is a turn to darkness. From light it will turn to dark. And that turn you can do nothing about. That turn is in the nature of things.
But nature it is. Nature will play this way and that way. Nature will play contrary games. It will give us light. It will give us the eclipses. And those eclipses Nature will give because it wants to remind us of light and respect what light is and what it gives us. Light gives us leave from darkness. Darkness is where we don’t take the light. Such is light.
And so there is, too, Shuklapaksha, the ascent of light over darkness. It comes. Inevitably. It is the law. It is the law of things as we have known it, and survive by. If there is Krishnapaksha, there must be Shuklapaksha.
Winter is coming. Yes. Be warned. But implicit in that dire dark warning is that Winter was once gone. Therefore, Winter is coming. Winter is not a forever season.
Nothing is. Nothing is forever.
And so, Shuklapaksha. It begins to end the darkness. Slowly, slice after slice, but surely. Shuklapaksha dawns. Nothing can stop it. Light conquering darkness. Layer upon layer, slice upon slice. And slowly it begins to soak up the darkness, which was once complete and convinced of its reign, and slowly does it begin to dispel all that is attached to the dark, favourably or unfavourably, and slowly too does it begin to assert itself as Light. As opposed to Darkness. Shuklapaksha. As opposed to Krishnapaksha.
A chain it is, and caught in that chain are we.
Do not wake me up. Please don’t.
It is nothing new
We’ve seen, it’s all come and gone
It is only a few
Who cannot see the foregone.