SALVATION [MUKTI]

There is no God, declares the man who is not even sure if he exists. There is a God, declares a man, whose all understanding of God is that of pleasure and pain, profit and loss, good and bad. There is harmony in the universe, declares the man whose understanding of nature is limited to his senses. There is chaos in the universe, declares a man, whose whole understanding of his mind is that of an animal, who functions on "oh! fruit! I want fruit!'. "Oh! Sex, I want sex!" 

Man, and his claims to truth have been age old. There were some authentic men as well, but the authentic ones only have either smiled or to the least, murmured the truth (Recall Galileo in front of the Catholic Church). 

Our Epistemology is so flawed. There is a mixture of truths, one is through our perception, one is through our deduction and some through induction. Inspite of these numerous methods, when these methods do not make sense to man, it seems like a contradiction. Our understanding of the world is truly a lot. But do we know if we can call this knowledge a lot? Should the amount of water be judged by the capacity of the vessel or the water of the whole pond? 

Everyone, even the most rabid atheist, would want to visit God once, but Nobody dares ask this question, "Do, I deserve to see God?" Do, I, a petty human, a pawn in his whole game of life and death, deserve a chance to meet the man?" What qualifies a man to meet God? How would God wish to see us, if he is there at the first place? 

I think he wishes us to be self-aware. He wishes us to acknowledge the game that we played all our lives. The game called life. We cried for love, we begged for attention, we grieved on deaths, we shouted for mercy, we danced in jealousy, we jumped with joy, we flinched with envy, we did numerous non-senses and may be the biggest of all, we asked for meaning of all this.  

After all this, I think he wishes to see his creatures mature. He wishes to see his creatures smile at him, with all their faults and flaws and falls recognized by them. He wishes to see us naked. He wishes to see us in our purest form. A form, which is not insecure of his own being. A form, which does not wish his essence. A form, who does not wish to progress more for the sake of it. A form, which does not compare his being to others. A form, which is restful so much so that God mirrors himself in him. That man is worthy of meeting the creator of the universe and they would smile at each other, with a coffee in both their hands. 

I have always envisioned that a meeting with God will be a coffee date. I always wished sipping my Coffee, that may be this is what Mukti tastes like. Hundreds of years of bondage, constant wishing of things, constant regrets and constant disappointments, this is how I wish to see the end of it all. A coffee cup and in front of me, the wholeness of it all unfolding in its multitude and its grandeur, just letting me know, "This was all a dream, my boy, a happy dream which once turned into a nightmare, but you fought well my boy, you were courageous!" And I open my eyes, and I find myself drinking the hemlock, Plato crying beside, then I open my next pair of eyes, I feel my face burning in front of the Catholic church, I reopen my eyes, I see my headless body rolling over the Masjid floor, and I am laughing and shouting," La illaha illallaah, Muhammad Rasulullah!" I reopen my eyes wide, and I see, crores of disciples meditating in yellow robes, I reopen, I see a mushroom of gas killing thousands in Hiroshima, I reopen, I see! I reopened, I saw, I reopened, I saw, I saw, and I saw, and I saw. I saw so much and yet so little. Little was my vessel and so vast was his content. So vast was meaning and so little was my form. My overwhelm knows no bounds. 

I re-open, and I see him again. He asks, "Do you need Mukti?" And I say, "No, I don't need it now!". He asks again, "So do you need essence, or riches, or pleasure, or perhaps, pain?" "Nope, nothing, I am ok now!" Thank you so much! His smile I see, and I sleep. His smile will rejoice me all along.