Who shall be punished for the sin committed without interruption for 12 years?
The sin is committed against the sinner.
Is that justice?
Yes, the sinner has been punished.
What about the one who sinned the sinner?
On the Judgement Day…
On this judgement day? Or another?
I object to the wait for the judgement day.
Patience sinner!
I said, I object.
You can’t.
I pronounce you and everyone else to eternal punishment in the ultimate hellfire. Why not burn you all forever when He can?
Deviations against divine revelations.
The punishment didn’t deviate. It sustained for over a decade.
I object.
Who shall we hang now? Hang till death yet death unpermitted.
Who shall bring back the decade of alienation?
You thought I was sitting idle? No. I plan and make heavens. Then I renovate them into purgatories. And then I transform them into infernos.
See the children being butchered. Cities bombed. Hospitals struck. Blood everywhere. Still shortage of blood.
Why don’t you let them die? Why bring them back to this life?
You won’t. You can’t.
You raise children knowing they will suffer. You love them only to leave them in this world.
We know. Yet we ignore. We choose pain.
May you feel trapped in your body.
May you wish for death.
May you live forever.
—–
If you get the nerve of the universe, the way it operates and functions, you will know that Walli wasn’t insane.
Forget 1800s.
All of you cannot see 1990s again. Saddening, isn’t it? Some of you may not have seen it at all. It was the last decade of evolution. A halt in 2000s. Devolution since 2010s.
You cannot imagine the beauty of 1980s.
You cannot ever witness what it was like in 1960s.
You cannot smell the flowers of 1910s.
You cannot understand the glimpse of her mole on her neck when she’d be angry, and her neck stretched a little upward… that was 1822. You cannot see that. Yet, Walli had the courtesy to travel through all these times and moments to be trapped in a single action that he didn’t commit but to become a slave of his own self for the generations to come. For another glimpse.
For a glimpse of a newborn, a decade back.
For a glimpse of crawling, a year later.
For a hug, another year later.
For a long uninterrupted chat, another year later.
For a long stare, another year later.
For another crusade, another year later.
For the 3rd temple of Jerusalem, another year later.
For the demolition of all the holy places all over the world, another year later.
For the first conquest of the one who was awaited by the massive crowds, another year later.
For the final revelation that it was a very harmful and bloody joke on you, another year later.
12 years it is. It is not. The time doesn’t run as linear as you think. It bends around the denser objects… like Walli. I wish I could explain but you got only five senses. Or six as you claim at times of being a complete waste of DNA.
Have you held a hand between the aisles of books? The hand, that must not be left ever again. I know you cannot relate to this part of human behavior – hint: devolution – when only one hand was supposed to be held forever. Walli’s case is different though. He had to live a number of times to hold different hands, but in the end, it was also for one hand that he wanted to hold one time before ending his journeys through irrelevant and parallel times.
Have you ever heard how wasteful time is in itself? Of all the creations, the most wasteful is this: time. A ridiculous concept that does not even exist.
—-
In the name of M. You have been bestowed with fortune and the favor of the Lord. Yes, the Lord. Who gives. And takes. Makes you happy. And sad. Gives you reasons to be blasphemous. And then sends unreasonable crowd to burn you. Infidelity.
“I object.”
Wait for another year. Because another year, is just a joke in the Divine Comedy of thy Lord.
—–
An Extraordinary Love Story Demands An Extraordinary Sacrifice.
—–
“O’ Musa, what have you done?”
The shepherd loved God in his own way – and was stopped. God preferred the love. Not the correction. He preferred the error.
Walli remembers.
“I am that shepherd. I am that divine blasphemy that was adopted by the scripture itself.”
—–
There is no chronology.
He drank the hemlock.
He declared.
He rebelled.
A soldier dying in a field.
A no one.
A king sending thousands to die.
A pharaoh adopting a child.
And a child attaining prophethood.
And the shepherd attaining nirvana declining the prophet’s message.
He’s all of them.
And none.
—–
People die. History vanishes. But pain remains.
Till it’s all over with Judgement Day. And that Day will be a deliverance for all except those who created pain. You shall see. The day that has been promised. You shall see.
And who created pain in the first place? That’s where it ends. That’s where it starts. That’s where Walli commits blasphemy and a Prophet comes to ruin his life. One life at a time.
Come down dear Lord! Come down for a day. Live in pain for a day. Feel the thumps of a dying heart for a day. Come down and wait for someone you love. Experience what waiting feels like. Come down and wander across the timelines of people who have lost their kids – for a day or forever – and feel this and then let the heavens fall for the Judgement Day. Let this be the end.
Come down, Lord. Live one day in this pain. And then we shall talk outside Paeds ICU. Tête-à-tête.
—–
It is about the pain which gave his words meaning. It is about Walli who writes in red ink. He writes and bleeds. He humanizes his pain, to decorate your bookshelves, which you put in the history section.
It is about the pain which kills your organs gradually inside you, like cancer, but cancer is nothing; comparatively speaking.
It is about cancer inside itself. Cancer has a chance. And cancer is inside you and is yours. You own it. It grows inside you like a child in a womb.
How do you suffer chronologically?
There is no chronology to Walli’s life. Lives actually. I have narrated fragments of his life in different eras.
Is there a deadline?
Life , as we know it, is an illusion. The pains, the gains, the rewards, consequences; everything is an illusion. Tangible illusions. Perhaps your dreams, when you sleep, are reality. You only wake up to sleep again. You work hard to sleep better. You get your health checked to have uninterrupted slumber. Sleep is the cause and dreams are the reward. Simple.
But Walli hasn’t slept in ages. During his first birth around 470 BC, he was conscious before coming out to the world. He was ready to be delivered to the world of pain. A world with questions and no answers. Hence, experiments. Bad ones mostly, causing terror and havoc.
Where does your existence fall exactly?
Imagine a big war – like World War II – where bombs are being dropped from planes and you are lying in a field with an injured leg. And you look in the sky and think about the war and your potential death. You think about the person – who you have never met – for whom you have sacrificed your life. Your life. Your family. Your children. For what? For land which is going to bury you. That’s all.
So, where are you actually? One among the million dead soldiers.
Let the hearts burst with fear. Let the swords rise high in the air to dissect. Dissect arms. Dissect bodies. Kill at will. For the Promised Land. But that doesn’t matter. Who wants to get into the Promised Land to die? The bar has two sides. Richard’s side and Saladin’s side. But it is exactly the same bar. And Walli doesn’t want to die in the field, looking at the sky, thinking of nothing. That will happen after 8 centuries.
Let it burn. Let the world burn. Turn everything into ashes. Because nothing exists; and what exists doesn’t matter.
—–
While sitting with Buddha on the hills, Walli gave him the secret. It wasn’t hunger or abandoning your family. These are physical pains which lead to nothing spiritual.
Centuries later, Walli narrated the same secret to Christ. While waiting in the death chamber, Walli revealed that physical death is temporary. Spiritual death is the real tragedy.
Walli told him to ask God for heavenly permission. In return, Walli died on the cross. No one knows it was Walli who died that day. Only to be resurrected again and again and again.
But who is Walli?
We don’t know for sure. All we know is that he had some unfinished business. In his original life, he went on to a useless war enforced by the emperor.
Can you imagine Walli being the emperor himself? From an unknown soldier to the emperor of all faiths? Well, that’s another tragedy. He had to conquer the Holy Land to complete a prediction.
That war wasn’t holy. It was personal. As he perished for his emperor back then, he too got crowned himself while thousands perished for his war. And history, which he wrote himself, calls him Commander of all Faiths.
From the power of the great emperor to the powerless life of a small farmer, Walli lived through it all. He died on the battlefield without a name and had a whole kingdom named after him in his time. In all the powerful and powerless journeys, his essence remained the same.
He once lived a dervish life too. He died in his late 70s. People built a tomb in his name. The tomb became a symbol of Sufism for generations.
And in another later journey, Walli was singing and dancing to his own poetry in the verandah of his own tomb. Like a madman who never bathed and never prayed. Never felt the need.
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