ho gayi hai peer parvat si, pighalni chahiye
is himalay se koi ganga nikalni chahiye

aaj ye deevaar pardon ki tarah hilne lagi
shart lekin ye thi ki buniyaad hilni chahiye

har sadak par, har gali mein, har nagar, har gaaon mein
haath lehraate hue har laash chalni chahiye

mere seene mein nahi to tere seene mein sahi
ho kahin bhi aag, aag lekin jalni chaahiye

– dushyant kumar


There was a fire on the mountain. In the backdrop of twilight, it added to the sheer glory and power of the mountain. There was an audacity to what nature had done – the pristine solitude of the mountain, the electrifying colours of twilight, and a fire that made everything more alive, awake and beautiful.

He stood below, looking at the fire. The fire was the essence of life. The stones on the mountain, the colours in the sky, the air around him – these were all afflicted by a strain of death. Even though deep within, they too were constantly moving, they were also static. Some for minutes, some for hours, and some for centuries – these elements had settled into the world in a state of stasis.

Not so the fire. It was constantly alive. Its flames were changing shape every moment, as if in a dance. A dance of death that burnt the wood, a dance of creation that created heat and flames, every moment, moment after moment. In fire, creation and death were together. Every moment of death was a moment of creation. Every moment of creation came with its own death. Encompassing creation and death, fire was life itself.

He stood there. He knew what the purpose of life was. He understood why the ancients had venerated fire, sang to it, befriended it, made it part of their dawns and dusks. Quietly but intensely, a vision had presented itself. It was agni.  

~ by tdcatss on December 16, 2015.

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