The Devotee

It came to pass that a man drenched with thirst swam ashore on the beach. His eyes were tired, his frame was slack. Though he was young, his mind was a century of drought. He searched for worship and devotion. For god or for monster. He had heard that a man exclusively deserved the deity he chose. He wanted to submit and to belong. All the wasted threads of his body and his soul ached for a commitment to the divine.

He chanced on the figure of a magnificent creature who played in the sand. Trudging forward to see more of it, he was, not blinded, but soothed by the bronze sunlight enveloping the form. It was not male nor female, not adult nor child, not man nor beast. Intent of man, spirit of woman; brow of the sage, innocence of the cherub; eye of the tigress, gait of the stag. The form stared at him with the infinite kindness of the universe.

He then broke and wailed. The aeons of travel, the ages of grime, and the years of fatigue fell upon the sand with his tears. In him, till no moisture and solitude were left, his dry tongue moved in a plea –

“What must I do to be free of fear?”

The form replied –

“Thou doth touch me, but shan't gather lust from me.”

“Thou doth extol of my beauty in word and song, but shan't wait for a response.”

“Though doth worship me, but shan't be bid love in return.”

Hearing that, he recoiled in anguish and dread. And such was he spoke.

“What kind of god be thee?”

“What be a man, sans the love of his god.”

“What be a god, sans the devotion of his apostle.”

Thence, he resigned his fate. If submission to such terms is what it took, so be it.

He spread his arms to the heavens and peace reined on him.

In his journey, he had found that a man's god is the reflection of his fabric. So he knelt on the gallows, smiled at the executioner, and wished for a pretty end.

“Arziyaan saari mein chehre pr likh ke lya hoon,

Tumse kya maangu mein tum khud hi samajh lo maula”

“Dararein, dararein hain mathe pe maula

Marrammat mukaddar ki kar do maula”

“Tere dar pe jhuka hoon, mita hoon, bana hoon,

Marrammat mukaddar ki kar do maula”

“Pyaas leke ke aaya tha,

dariyaa vo bhar laaya,

nuur ki barish mein bheegta sa tar aaya”

“Sar utha ke mein toh kitni kwahishein ki thi,

kitne khawab dekhe the, kitni koshishein ki thi,

jab tu rubaru aya, nazarein na mila paaya,

sar jhuka ke ek pal mein maine kya nahi paaya”