Inferno

by Durlabh Singh

Beside a lonely hamlet a dog is barking, chained to a post in a barren field. It is an evening time. The sky is red, strewn with streaks of blood of the dying day. The dog lets out a howl born out of despair and futility of his life.

He hates his owner for enslaving him. He hates the flesh which he has to devour each day to appease his hunger. He hates killing other creatures to satisfy his lust for flesh, just to perpetuate his existence. He hates his futile barking all day long.

A dark wind rose within his bowels and slowly winded up his belly like a python, crushing his entrails, passing through his heart and reaching his chest. He let out another howl of anguish. The sound reverberated among the hills and other small creatures shared that anguish.

He was beyond hope from humankind. Beyond his bestial nature, he longed for some comfort, for a little warmth. For small kindness or tenderness but alas he could not find any. Tears began to roll down from his muddy eyes across his cheeks. He prayed to divinity for his release, for some light relief or to give some meaning to his wretched life.

Crying, exhausted he fell asleep.

In his sleep he felt that divinity had touched him but he could not comprehend it fully. It was too complex for his canine brain.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2004

The Poet

by Durlabh Singh

The poet was creating verses but there was something deeper within his being which was urging him to create poetry of some extraordinary amplitude, which will express the whole universe through the labour of his fingers, in a concise poem.

So he kept creating unjustifiable pourings of his heart for which the universe had no need. The universe was a stony hard entity which could crush his very life any moment and with it all his aspirations.

In his waking dreams, he felt that he had to continue to create in order to justify his existence and his place within that mysterious manifold indifferent universe and even more to justify the very existence of the universe itself through his writings.

He had to fathom the secret history of emotions, the hidden geometry of space and within the universe's solid structure he had to find a crack through which he could escape into other worlds built on foundations of poesy.

His verses became intricate patterns full of complicated contents telling of realities too deep for ordinary people to comprehend. He was shifted to a place from which no communication was possible anymore.

He was cut off from others by a wall of words and found relief in a citadel of his own loneliness.

In the dusty corners of his room he found creatures lurking full of his musings, whispering to him deeper messages and in the garden he found translucent shadows full of vibrant colours which elongated themselves in the evening sunset in order to measure the dimensions of the planet.

The demons created by his mind began to inhabit the universe and put a curse on him as infinite as his own sufferings and pain. His verse became an expression of his pain and reverberated through space and suddenly the universe cried back in an anguished voice sharing his agony.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2004

The Night Spirit

by Durlabh Singh

The spirit of the night spread out its mantle over the world and through its power of concentration created a vast sea of translucent darkness which flowed like the lucid waters of liberation.

It called forth its sister 'The Sleep' and together they set forth to sooth the agonies of all the living creatures. It descended on creatures moving in mountains, cities and wilderness and guided them safely to their night abodes. It protected them from evil, covering them with sheets of care and tenderness.

It toned down the harsh outlines of the objects and blended them with magical hues to paint a world of mystery and beauty, all in a supernal mode.

It gave a compassionate wisdom to beings to control frights in their dreams and nightmares, showering them with breaths of peace and tranquillity. The further one went in pursuit of its habitation, the loftier becomes its dwellings. The deeper one felt, the firmer become its foundations.

These are the wanderings of the Night Spirit.

Copyright © Durlabh Singh 2004