The string of a Sarod. Stretched, The finger feels its angst. Rubs against the string producing a squeaky sound.<\/p>\n
Majid’s ‘s eyes squeezed together \u00a0concentration. His left fingers gently increasing the tautness of the string. Listening to its internal struggle. Stretch ..<\/p>\n
Black empty space. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Is this infinity ? Claustrophobic. The emptiness clawing at you. Not as the Buddha described. Nothingness is like being in a coffin that closes upon you, till you scream. A silent black empty scream.<\/p>\n
Majid’s eyes squeeze tighter. His face in a grimace. That one moment. That has to be perfect. No, not courage. But the moment. Catch that moment before it leaves you. Millions and trillions of moments buzzing by in a nano second. Catch one before its gone.<\/p>\n
Majid plucks the string. It fights, struggles, unable to let go of its inertia. and then finds it rhythm. Majid’s face responds to the slavery of himself to movement of the string. To the seizing of the moment. \u00a0Both he and the string dancing together.<\/p>\n
You let out a deep sigh as the note from the string resonates through deep space. Darkness is dispelled. A sigh, and another.<\/p>\n
Karima sucks in breath, clutches her mouth. Eyes wide in fear. In wonder. In amazement. And then lets go, a strange deep sound escapes, the letting go of all that is herself. As an exhausted Majid slides off her. Karima cries softly. Majid looks at her. She turns away. Why do they do that ? Majid wonders. Are they able to travel somewhere to a place he does not know?<\/p>\n
” Where was Time before the Big Bang ? Was there only Eternity before the Big Bang ?”<\/p>\n
“Before the Big Bang there was no Time and no Space. The beginning of the \u00a0Universe was the beginning of Time. The Beginning of Space….<\/p>\n
(to be continued .. \u00a0am in Goa… listening to the water lapping at the beach. The crows trying to drown it out. I should have got up earlier.. before the crows drowned out the sound. But sleep has two interpretations. \u00a0That which you feel you need, and that which comes in waves and then pass you by)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The string of a Sarod. Stretched, The finger feels its angst. Rubs against the string producing a squeaky sound. Majid’s ‘s eyes squeezed together \u00a0concentration. His left fingers gently increasing the tautness of the string. Listening to its internal struggle. Stretch .. Black empty space. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Is this infinity ? […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1573","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n