Corn fields. Something’s delightful about them.

There’s a decent stretch of corns behind my room in the Karnataka village in southern India where I live these days. I go stand by the open windows looking at them for a long time, like being lost in the lush. The wind has a deep chorus as it moves through the large tamarinds bordering this sunny stretch. When it passes through the corn leaves however, the tone of the drone is different. It’s lighter, breezier, and easier. Because the corns let the wind move through them and they simply sway along.

How easily they sway in the wind. Everything moves. To this side or that. You never knew that specialness too swayed. Love as humans define. It keeps moving to this side or that. That’s because we are as vacillating as corn leaves. Humans are mere capricious forms that sway easily in any wind. To this side or that.

You see his rhythm and decides he is the one. You see her light and chooses to roost. You settle in a big city township. Or you talk about a hillside cottage. You weave dreams. Then the wind comes. Everything moves. Everything sways. Everything goes. Just like that. Then again you fall for the same error: you look for new forms to roost.

In this expanse of vacillating dreams, why do we still try to roost? Why do we fall like flies into flames? Because we are not sure on how to deal with life in any other way. Companionship, if that word means anything to you, has to be rooted in something that’s not ambivalent as humans. This is a tough call indeed. For we believe we need a form to comprehend, to figure out, to touch, to hug, to hang on. There’s a way to see and be convinced what a slippery track this is. Examine the state of our own little selves. Are we a stable bedrock ourselves? Don’t we sway even in a breeze like those corns? In that case how can we expect anyone to invest their lives in us? In that case how can we expect us to invest lives in anyone who is as unstable as us?

All wishes to be treated special by someone is a meaningless fantasy. All our claims about our special feelings for someone as ‘love’ is a misnomer. It’s a childish game. We are not really aware of what we are asking for when we seek a man or a woman. We believe we are seeking and giving love. But what has love got to do with our longings for bodies? [ ‘He answered: Where there is a body, there vultures too shall gather.’ ]

What you and I are looking for are not body partners, though that’s what our eyes show us. What we are really looking for is Love that is inside and hidden from us. We shall never find it in our bodies or personalities or other bodies or personalities. Never. Funny how the entire species of homo sapiens was taken for a ride by itself.

A point of time has to come into our lives. A point where we really begin to move away from swaying frailties. A point where we go and sit on our mats to look within. Yes, you’ll find your little self is as porous as a sieve. Full of guilt, fear, and darkness and lies we’ve been covering ourselves with. But we’ll also find our true companion there. In time. In time, you’ll know who am I really talking about when you meet Him within.

PS: In this room where I live I’ve good company in Pauly the fat frog who visits when he’s lured by the tube light and Demi, the lizard who plays hide ‘n seek with me… And then of course the invisible ones who offer me their shoulders to weep my frailties away…