The Truth About Truth – I (Previous part)
The cave of Shabd Yogis, what more I could ask for? I was right where I wanted to be. Few people in life get what they always wished for. As I entered deeper into the cave, I realised it wasn’t just an opening inside the mountain, it was a mini-world of sorts inside comprising of young and old bearded men draped in saffron hues most of them deep into meditation.
Yogiji told me about the way of the Shabd-yogis, their history, their rules. It is unknown since when they exactly came into existence, but it was certainly before the 7th Century, the engravings on the cave walls date back to that time. The Shabd-yogis are called so, because they are respected as the masters of speech, in ancient times they were considered the greatest negotiators and orators. There ability was such that there was no kingdom in India that didn’t request them to help their cause in avoiding wars and turning foes into friends with their power of speech. For them, every thought is like words, silence is one language too, made of unspoken thoughts. No surprise, every person I met in the cave till now knew what I had come there for, from my silence. It was scary, once again to be among people who knew everything you had inside your mind.
“I came here to learn the skill of reading minds, guide me Guruji” I said to the Chief of whole Shabd-fraternity. He was the eldest of all the people inside the cave. “I can see that learning the way of speech and master that art is not your purpose, you just wanted to read minds. Didn’t you my son?” he replied. It was a little setback, but my mind was already naked infront of them, the mighty masters of speech. “I can’t hide that Guruji, that’s all I wish to learn”. Guruji smiled, “You want it, you shall have it. I am no one to stop you when your will is so strong”. I bowed in front of him and asked for his permission to leave, “Before you embark on this journey, I find it’s my responsibility to warn you about it. Whatever you wish to learn is dangerous. It looks like a boon, but it’s a curse for many. ” I hesitated a little, but I just didn’t want to go back, I had given it my everything already.
For months I was taught the principles of human thoughts, insightful ventures into one of the most complicated natural creations. Once I mastered that, I became part of the Shabd-Yogis. They gifted me a saffron outfit to mark my induction. But mind-reading was still far. I meditated every day for 8 years, reading scriptures and getting taught by my counterparts. With each passing day, the haze was getting cleared. The language of silence, getting more and more readable.
“I know you never thought I will make it, but you are surprised and very proud of me” I told the chief-yogi one day.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking right now, Son. I guess it’s time you realise you have made it.” he replied as he put his hand on my head and chanted some mantras. And that’s how on one random day I pleasantly got acquainted to the fact that I could read minds, my childhood dream came true. It was time for the journey back home, before I left I touched every yogi’s feet as a mark of respect, they blessed me for my future endeavors.
After 8 long years, I walked back into civilization, it took me a while before I adjusted to it. My saffron clothing, my long hair and beard, made sure everywhere I went I was treated with respect. Everyone had multiple things going on in their minds, but the respect or fear for a man in saffron clothes and a long unkempt beard was constant.
My siblings didn’t recognise me when they first saw me. Mom and Dad were noticeably older, after all it was a period of 8 long years. They all thought I was a spiritual man now, away from this material world. They didn’t know I could hear them thinking, every second.
You think people who achieve their dreams are lucky? Maybe they are, but I cry everyday with this curse. My siblings think I never did anything for my family and I just ran away, a crazy brother who never cared for the family. Obviously, they never say this, they just think and I can listen to them, that’s my curse. Mom’s still in love with her childhood sweetheart, our neighbor. Dad is an atheist but he never tells anyone. These subtles shocks have become everyday affairs. Every family member, every passerby, every person’s dark secrets beaming infront of me.
Talking to people, we don’t realise how much hatred is there in our lives. Nearly everyone has negative thoughts running in their minds about us. This negativity, this hatred makes me feel miserable, makes me feel helpless. How can one unsee so much of abomination? When it’s just there, everywhere you see.
I don’t sleep at nights, that’s the only time people aren’t thinking around me. It’s the only time I can feel sane. I sit there, stone faced and wish that I lose this curse-like power to read minds. Yogiji’s words echo in my ears every day, his warning I never paid heed to. I always wanted to see the truth, but when it’s there, standing infront me I realise how ugly it is.
We are nothing but a bunch of lies. Our minds think something else, our tongues speak sugar-coated falsities. If every person loses the ability to lie some day, the world will probably end in a few days. I always thought knowing what’s going in someone’s mind will be fun, now I feel I was better off in the world of lies. The normal world, where truth is what comes out of your mouth, not your mind.
In my long voyage, I learned that some dreams look sweet from far away, they are not. I learned that we are what we hide, not what we show. I learned that our world is made on the bricks of lies. I learned… the truth about truth.