CHAPTER ONE
I heard a soft rustling, which was just an octave below the background tourist noise.
The pale moonlight reflected off the contours of the Taj Mahal in the distance, and I felt too mesmerized to look around. Also, I was tired of life, and did not care if the sound were that of a cobra’s movements.
The Taj seems to have come straight out of a fairy tale. There is something about the monument that has been noticed by millions of visitors who have seen it over the centuries. It is too pure to really be here on Earth, surrounded by all the sordidness and squalor prevalent in the world around it.
And it is precisely this purity, and its ethereal beauty, that has the miraculous effect of lifting you out of the depression and drudgery of daily life, into a vast elevated space where love, truth, beauty, and magic have a tangible meaning.
I was very sad because I had lost my father the previous month. Although we had had a very strained relationship, his death had completely shattered me.
I had really loved him from my inner core; and though from the outside I had constantly warred against his dominance, it had really only been an exterior rejection. But, he had passed away, after his fight with cancer, and I had not been able to communicate my true feelings to him.
I had also discovered some partly-finished letters written by him in the final stages of his battle with death, in which he had written that he loved me, and that I was a Sun for him, not just a son. My cup of grief brimmed over and overflowed.
I hated myself from my guts for all that I had said to him; but there is no second chance in life, and I got none.
I had lost all desire to live and became listless and tired of life.
I did not even notice the man sitting on the bench beside me, as I got up and walked away. Later, as I lay tossing and turning under the strange blankets of the guest house that night, I recalled hearing the faint rustling sounds. And along with them came the sense of a presence looking deep into me as I had sat there on the bench–as if searching my soul for something.
But then I was almost asleep, and it was late. And even as I grasped for meaning, the clouds of sleep gathered around me and spun their gossamer magic over my thoughts.
I slept and had forgotten all about it by the next morning.
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