Friday, April 5, 2013

Perfection but a collage of Imperfections

I got up one morning and just walked out of my life, as I knew it; as if I had discovered a new calling. It was persistent, it was irritating, it was vague. I tried to comprehend the calling but to no avail - I was, as an iron to a powerful magnet drawn.

I walked on and on -  my feet went sore, my throat was parched and my heart was pounding against my chest. I wanted to collapse but my will was overpowered by the strength of the force pulling me. My body had given up but my Soul urged it to tread on, ever so drudgingly.


A million thoughts were running through my mind - what was this quest for? Was I looking for love or happiness; was it contentment or was it God? I completely broke down, I was so helpless, so much at a loss to understand. I had abandoned my life and was wandering in the foothills of the Himalayas - I hadn't had human interaction for months and had lost count of the number of sleepless night. I was merely surviving on whatever nature had to offer to me. My soul was restless, my mind was bordering towards the sane's definition of insanity and my body was exhausted to the brink of death; but I had never felt so alive - I had never wanted anything so bad.


After years of pondering, my head started throbbing and one thought consumed my being. If I had the wherewithal, I would ensure that my offspring is perfect; then why are we, God's own creation, so imperfect; why are we flawed and wrong?


While I was in one of my numerous pensive states, trying to figure out the whole purpose of my being, I was brought back to my senses by a sagely man prodding me with his stick. Seeing my frail state he insisted that I follow him to his hut. As much as I wanted to be left alone, I was but yet again pulled. Selflessly, he shared his food with me and tended to my health. Over the next few days, except for the perpetual throbbing in my head, I regained my health and started helping Sankalp with his work. He was an Ayurvedic healer who used the herbs from the foothills of the Himalayas to treat sick people. People used to queue up outside his hut before sunrise and Sankalp used to ensure that he left no one unattended. It was as if like magic - everyone who came to him was cured.


He was such a learned man that one day while collecting Herbs, I asked him what he thought perfection was. Instead of answering me, Sankalp asked me about what I thought to be the closest thing to perfection that I may have seen on my journey. The answer was clear - the herbs curing people of their ailments. He went on to explain that in a very isolated case that may be so - given that the sole purpose of the sick person is to get cured and the herbs do so, but even in that case the right medicine, in the right quantity, administered at the right intervals to the sick person creates perfection. The herb alone serves no purpose hence in isolation is imperfect.


The incessant throbbing stopped. I realised that perfection I was looking for was always there and I was the most important part of it - as are you. As imperfect as we are, each of us are but pieces of a jigsaw puzzle - the only thing perfect is the completed puzzle itself - Gods own plan. I am happy that I have a role to play towards creation of perfection. 
Perfection but a collage of Imperfections.

My eyes blurred, Sankalp vanished, so did the forest and the cold of the Himalayas started turning into a warmth once forgotten. I collapsed.


I woke up in my bed, in my life as I knew it - but with all that I had learnt during my journey traversing a night, albeit transcending geographies and years.

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