When there was a lonely time and his heart wept loud asking his dear ones “Why am I left alone now? Why have I been stranded on this way which leads nowhere? Why have I been made to walk so long and come so far that I can’t go back? I did not deserve this”, he screamed as loud as he could. In the faint hope that someone would be hiding behind or following him till this place and hold out a helping hand when he would have accepted defeat and looked for comfort. But as always it happens with humans or to be more correct to humans who commit the crime of building expectations; his hope was shattered, broken, crushed. All he could look behind and see was a trail he had made with his own bare feet but no soul, no sign of life on this trail except him. But to count him as life would not be right, for he was deprived of hope and will; something synonymous with life.
His journey had started when he was at the lowest ebb in his life. Family he had always heard and read is there for you when you need them. But he was so different in his abilities than others around him, his family could not accept him. He walked less, he thought more. He talked less, he listened more. He showed less, he felt more. He was as truthful as reflection of light in water and as pure as a rain drop when it meets the earth. He was not accepted in the family since he started expressing his discomfort with the way life was understood and lived. He questioned, that was never the problem. Children are curious, that is accepted and expected. He refused to accept the answers till he was convinced and he questioned the logic and values that guided the answers. Something which had not been challenged since ages and not challenged vocally was now challenged every day and was left open for debate by the child he was without any guilt, fear or refrain. And it became increasingly unpleasant and disruptive for the normal life. So, family had to be strong to turn him out of the house and the clan understood the grief and pain of the family as it is not easy to let go of one’s own flesh and blood even if it does not have the ability to carry forward family’s name and honor or even to the extent that it turns disregardful. Away from the family, the clan and the world he knew he was asked to leave. To another land, he was told he belonged. He would find more comfort, more solace and more knowledge. He will not bring disrepute the way he was now to his people by being what he was, incapacitated.
He did not question this time, all were surprised but not him. He knew it was futile to fight against a common will united by fear and resolve to remain as they were and as they knew to be. He went in the direction in which the breeze blew with no promises to himself, with no expectations from anyone. How could he have any? He had left behind all he could call his own – the people and the land. Life is life when it is lived with the people who are yours and to whom you belong but when death knocks, you go to the land you belong – buried, burnt or left for others – there is some land to which each body belongs. But he had left life and death both at the same go. Or life left him and made him leave behind the right to die as well as whatever happens to him now no one would know. So, he mattered no more; to others definitely no and to himself he did not know.
The breeze took him on a path he had not known. It looked no one had been on this way before, because there was no path so as to say. He had to create his own way. With tall grass and wilderness around, he had to make a way for himself. He had no sword to clear his way, so he took a fallen branch and asked from the tree first of he could so. The tree laughed aloud and so loud that birds flew away, the branch which has fallen and I do not know any more , that my friend was dead long back. I do not care you should know; the dead are mourned and not cared for. He took the branch and made it his sword and kept running and walking for days and weeks. When he felt hungry, trees would give him fruit and clouds will rain to quench his thirst, as they had never seen a lone soul battling it hard to come out of the wilderness.
All felt were on the same journey but when these weeks turned into months and the seasons changed. He could not see clouds and he was thirsty forever. He could not find streams or rivers or ponds as water was not free on this land, it was owned by Gods and not by mere people who could be coaxed, pleaded or fought. And then season changed again and trees went barren, with no fruit he went hungry for days. He searched for things to eat but found none, as whole world around him had gone empty and barren. He fought with golden blades which cut his face and blinded him in the eye. Yet he carried on for he was not the one to surrender to his fate or someone else’s will. When he grew weak and was in tears for he could no longer bear the pain and suffering he had inflicted on himself by choosing to be himself, he looked towards the breeze for he knew it would make his tears go dry and he would walk again if not a mile but maybe a step or two more.
The breeze was ready and raring to go and hugged him tight and whispered in his ear so loudly that the sky could also hear.”It is time for me to leave. To leave you, for you have broken the trust we had. We were together and you know why. We were not supposed to be together for always, but till the time we had a pleasant journey. You broke my trust and you grew weak and slowed down. I can forgive you for what misery you have brought to yourself by being so careless, ruthless and fearless; but when you slowed down you looked at me to help you wipe your tears and pull you back on the path. That my friend. Apologies again. That O man is a sign of weakness. I forgive mistakes but do not pardon people who are frail and weak as the world salutes strength and valor. My presence, I see have made you go weak in the time when you should have shown great will and strength. Thus, it is my duty as a friend to leave you alone so that you turn into a strong man full of wisdom and courage, who takes life not as it comes but makes life what he wants it to be do. We may never meet again, but when a moment arrives you have conquered life and death both, I know you would thank me the most. That moment, I would forgive you for being weak as I would have made you the best you could be.”And the breeze went ahead whistling past the parched land, a dried stream and a hurt heart.
He sat on a rock in the barren land when he suddenly heard a voice, “Masks, I sell masks.” And he looked up he could not see anyone. His eyes were clouded but not so much that he could not see a man for he was alone for so long he would have smelled life from a distance far away. It happens often when man is left alone he accepts his that for he was the one to question, to inquire, to probe and to explore. He would not have accepted such an argument from himself if ever he made one. “Masks, it seems you need one”, the voice broke his sole existence. “Masks, what are they? What for? I never saw one before. Who has bought from you if someone did ever, may I ask.”
And the air which had been silent and still since breeze had left this man to himself, was stirred with a laughter so loud that even mountains ahead woke up from their slumber to be a witness to the scene which would unfold and reveal the humanity in a manner so naked which may be detested by many. The Maskman took a deep breath and in the rhythm in which the branches swayed and the birds flattered their wings, he sang,
“Masks, O dear you have not seen,
You did not look beyond the faces it seems,
Parents before they grow old wear a mask of sacrifice,
When they see you become young and strong,
They want you to wear one of duty and act wise,
Before they die they want you to accept the masks they wore,
And carry on a false life in the name of legacy,
Even though the child may detest it to the core.
Before a brother kills another, have you not seen?
The mask of affection and support he carries for so long,
But blinded by greed, jealousy or to be considered supreme,
He throws it away and wears the mask of a beast.
When in a marriage, two souls promise to be one,
Have you not seen, the regret and remorse behind the two faces?
Beneath the mask of love and loyalty, there is a darkness hidden
Which pricks the soul and asks is that the best you have got.
Not for fear of hunger or for fear of infidelity it speaks,
But for the search comes to an end and still no solace no peace.
For ideas of love woven in our hearts by not a generation or two,
But since humanity existed and since we have known of death,
There has been a talk of a companion for the soul till eternity and beyond,
But when you stand in front of someone who is that One,
You are reminded of the tales and the folklore,
There is a deep feeling in your heart that no dreams will be fulfilled
And no this is not the one who will hold your hand in times of need,
Yet you do accept and say it is the way of world,
For then you accept that even you could also be not the same
That he would have dreamt and then you wear a mask,
Of acceptance and love, unconditional and not questioned,
That is the only thing that both of you claim,
For you also do not want to answer or to say,
Give me what I deserve and I will do the same,
As you then know, that when path goes rough,
You might be the first one to fail.
Forget relationships which run deep,
For you need to live them even when you may not want,
When the sun shines bright and when there is no light,
So Gods do speak that these masks are for you,
To carry on life in a way often known and taught,
For changes too many, a mind cannot resolve,
Let the world be sane and the rhythm not broken,
Else wounds will run so deep that even we may not be able to heal.
In misery, hunger, pain and suffering are the ones most used,
In richness, loneliness, envy and greed most sold,
In good health, happiness and laughter are a hit,
In illness, fear of death is the one which is never missed.
In failure, disappointment and mockery I bring,
In success, arrogance and pride reigns as king,
In enmity, anger, rage and revenge drink wine,
In friendship, trust, support and affection always shine,
In birth, celebration and joy dance all night,
In death, tears and cries fill the dim lit sky.
Emotions you think, No O man commit not a mistake that grave,
These are the masks for the humanity I have made.
My fruit of labor and passion is keeping all of us alive,
Do not be fooled to think that it is strong will which survives.
Deep thought, and mastery of craft is what is needed,
Not trickery that I know you may have thought.
For if I go wrong, hearts and souls will bleed,
In the name of family and clan and creed,
I have managed to keep the curtains so tastefully draped,
That seldom has ever bothered to wander back stage,
But those whose mind flow like water and fly like feather,
Have seen faces hidden beneath these masks,
But even they have also not been spared,
A few died seeing blank faces and hollow eyes,
Which let them look deep inside and they found no soul,
For their faith was so shaken they could breathe no more.
Some who are wiser do not look deep themselves,
But probe and ask others to reveal more and more,
When others realize they have been touched and unraveled,
In a way they had never felt before,
They separate these few minds and deep moving souls,
And send them to wilderness or bury them deep down,
So that their masks are not again taken off.
Far and few but such man do walk on this planet,
I can sense it strong; is there someone like this whom you know?”
He knew deep down he was narrating the tale he had already lived, again after a long time, he questioned someone but did not know the answer this time. He said, “Masks, now I understood what and for whom they are meant. I may even think of buying one. But you seem wise and would know that I have nothing to offer in return and O creator of this magic ball that people call world, you do not seem kind enough to give a mask in charity and specially to someone like me who may use it to unearth lies and pretences, a few more.” Maskman smiled and a tear wet his lips, and he knew no mask could let the other one be held on the same face at the same time. Maskman did not sing this time he saw so deeply that his glance sent a cold wave down his spine. The words of maskman echoed in the mountains and still echo in some minds and souls of those few. “O man, gift me your blindness for I cannot see what I created and what it became. I see blank faces using them as pretext for mistrust, for treason, for crime and for injustice. I made these so that no one is bereaved of what others may feel and all may understand and explore the other one. I see all masks and know both what is playing in the front and what is playing behind. I can no longer see what I created and what has become. You blessed soul, I beg, gift me your blindness. For you are fortunate to have left life and death long back. And I am still to wait a long time for my death. I cannot close my eyes to the mockery they have made of me and my work. For them it is just a mask, for me each mask is an emotion I felt.”
He gifted him blindness and took all masks and though they were meant to be worn them one by one till he conquered the wilderness and the land beyond as god had written in the book called his fate. But he looked back at the trail he had made and never looked back but for this very moment he went back on the trail and dropped each mask one by one on each of the turn he had ever made. And no one knew where he went and what happened to him for he was dead long back for his land and clan. What remained were stories told by those who followed his trail and said they had seen the masks strewn on the sides and he was the epitome of a man that one could be for he had uncovered and unmasked all emotions and his trail ended where the new land began. He must have conquered the lands and the seas for that was he was meant to be.
