One Minute Meditative Walk , livre ebook

Partridge Publishing India - Ashok Sharda

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175 pages

English

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Despite having the luxury of an all-time company of a Metaphysician who dwells in the right hemisphere of his skull he keeps on failing to attain twenty-four-seven meditative state. One fine morning this metaphysical entity appears in his study in an assumed physical form to personally train him in an experiential one minute meditative walk. But alas! He fails despite seven attempts.

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Fiction

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Publié par	Partridge Publishing India
Date de parution	13 septembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781543708776
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Other published works by Ashok Sharda
Bagair Kursi Ka Kamra (A Room without a Chair- in Hindi)- Anthology of short stories of philosophical and metaphysical nature, published by Sunil Sahitya Sadan, Delhi, India in 1993.
There is a Room inside every Room- Anthology of Poems, published by Vishwabharti Prakashan, Nagpur, India in 2000.
An Ascending Experience- Anthology of Poems, published by Vishwabharti Prakashan, Nagpur, India in 2000.
An Ant Measured an Ant- Five Feet Six Inches, a novel, published by Partridge India, a venture of Random House in 2018.
Divine Justice, a novel published by Notion Press in 2018
Toss of Coin, an anthology of stories on relationship, published by Partridge India, a venture of Random House in 2019.
Waiting for the Next, a novel, published by Partridge India, a venture of Random House in 2020.
ONE MINUTE MEDITATIVE WALK

Depiction of a walk, walked unwalked, on pathless path

Words may walk linear
Or may not, meditative walk
Walks vertical, in silence

Ashok Sharda

Copyright © 2022 by Ashok Sharda.

ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-5437-0876-9

eBook
978-1-5437-0877-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/india
CONTENTS
Introduction
Acknowledgement
Dedication
Preface
My Metaphysician Appears in My Space in an Assumed Physical Form
My First Failed Attempt
My Second Attempt
My Third Attempt
My Fourth Attempt
My Fifth Attempt
‘Enough Of Words’
My Sixth Attempt
My Seventh Attempt which did not Happen
Being-Duty
Metaphysician Decides to Depart from My Scene
Departure of Metaphysician from My Scene
Flirting with the Unknown
INTRODUCTION
A s such, I have no introduction. Not unlike others, I have a name which speaks nothing of me. Names help identify a body, but I am not my body, though body may be my carrier in the physical space time continuum.
How can this name with a family tag identify me when it took me years to identify with a miniscule part of me? Yes, after providing some energy sources to this ‘self’, I can claim that I am my ‘Intending Self’- a self who ‘intends’- a self who isn’t any Tom, Dick, or Mary. He is an inquisitor, a rebel, a keen observer, when Present. He has, to greater extent, command over his intellectual apparatus only when he is actively present. And I do have the intention of commanding other centers of the mind, be it mechanical, emotional or any other.
Those who know me by my name or face, claim they know me. But when I look through them using my ‘Third Eye’, I find an image of a person who isn’t Me. Once I witnessed a verbal duel between two of my close friends. One of them said I was B, the other disputed his claim saying I am C. I tried to interfere, insisting – I am A. Incidentally, the fight wasn’t actually about establishing my identity but who was right. I was of no use in this battle as I refused to ratify either friend.
Who am I?
It’s an age old question.
A friend once asked me the very same question – ‘who am I?’ She seemed genuinely inquisitive in her search. In response I asked her – ‘who is the questioner?’ She understood.
But my question did not answer in full, though It helped her identify with the questioner, one among the whole lot she identified as her. These selves spoke in first person disguised as her (we are no different). Her battle commenced from this point. Now She must fight many battles to win this war and become one with the questioner as who she is or can become, the very questioner. Actually, in the end, the questioner herself will have to merge with ‘Awareness’ to become None. The absence will then become omnipresence. Nothingness alone can be termed as omnipresent. The rest has a beginning. Every story has a beginning. Omnipresence is unbegun.

Disclaimer: One Minute Meditative Walk
I confess that this story is true in the sense that all the characters of this story resides inside my skull. My head is the only stage where the play could have found its action.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
T his long story couldn’t have seen the light of the day if I didn’t have the luxury of a metaphysician occupying right hemisphere of my head as his abode. I thank him for choosing me for choosing him.
My Storyteller is not only an able architect but also a skilled builder having derived this competence from his potential to visualize verbal thoughts and produce ‘scenes’. I need to thank him too for helping me in building this long story.
My Logician too played his due role in the buildup of logical side of this story.
My Mind, despite his destructive essence, too was helpful in letting his various apparatus work in tandem which made it possible for me to produce this novel.
Nevertheless, my soul companion, my Loneliness too played her role in her perennial taciturnity ever eager to embrace me when I needed to take a break cluttered by my own thoughts in the course of drafting this long story. I thank her too.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this novel to all those truth seekers who despite their umpteen failures are still struggling to walk their unwalked walks on this pathless path.
PREFACE
I was supposed to assemble enough of my metaphysical stories for an anthology I had planned to publish. After visiting several documents, I selected fourteen incomplete stories, ten supposedly averaging ten thousand words each and four ‘tiny stories’. I picked up title of a story- ‘Stranded in the middle of a street’ as the title of this anthology as it reflected my state of being and how I arrived and got stuck in the middle of a street. This was half written story, I thought I will complete as I work on the other drafts of the stories stuck at various stages.
It so happened that I had to drop this story from this anthology as I got stuck at some place and found hard to de-stuck. I picked up another story, titled- ‘Parallel train’ to replace ‘stranded in the middle of street’ and completed it to my satisfaction. Needless to say, the title of my story-collection too changed to ‘Parallel train’. I wrote a draft of my preface and made a cover drawing too. But while I was assembling all the stories for my final reading a new story cropped up inside my head. For reasons unknown, as and when a story knocks my head, my Storyteller, habitually, determines its probable length. Incidentally, my Storyteller has proved wrong, nine out of ten times, in his assessment of the potential of story and the required canvas. My last published novel- ‘Waiting for the next’ too was a four thousand word story which, while writing its final draft, started expanding and turned into hundred and twenty thousand word story. This happens with most of my stories. The extreme case is a story, titled ‘MG Road’. When it knocked my doors and as usual, I offered it a seat and as my Storyteller started assessing ‘how much’, I realized that the story has element of poetry and let it to my Poet to write a poem. But this was not to be. In the middle of my expanding the scene into a poem my Storyteller picked it up from me and wrote a six thousand word story.
I have had several arguments with my Storyteller about his miscalculation. My Metaphysician too has cautioned and warned him to not to pre-assess the number. ‘You are a Storyteller’ once he said sarcastically ‘and not an account clerk who needs to produce a budget for every capital expenditure before the work is put into execution. Story writes on its own using your hand supported by various apparatuses of your mind. You are good at your visual thinking, good at picking up story, so stick to that and let the story write itself in the process of writing.’
This was my Storytellers experience too. Time and again he had said- ‘I am a visual thinker and while I visualize words, some quality ‘visuals’ knock my doors. I welcome them with a smile. Offer them a seat. And let them use my hand.’
In any case, while working on a story for this anthology ‘Parallel Train’ a new story cropped up inside my Storytellers head inside my skull, which he immediately gave a title- ‘One Minute Meditative Walk’ and as prone to his habit, he determined thousand words for this story. His thought process was like this: ‘The story lacks event as it confines to a single scene curtailing the possibility of any expansion. It also doesn’t have any character other than a Metaphysician- who had never literally seen the light of the day as he dwells inside the right hemisphere of my head- and the first person. Hence one thousand word would suffice.’
Then and there, my Storyteller decided to write this story and on my part, I decided to include the same in my upcoming anthology I was assembling for publication. I shall have fifteen stories, I thought, instead of fourteen. An addition of thousand words wont len