The Storyteller12 mins 293 12 mins 293
I was sitting in a park with Sumit thinking of where our lives were heading. Time was going tough for both of us. I looked impatient while Sumit, dissatisfied. Both of us were drowned in our own chain of thoughts when a cricket ball came rolling through the grass and hit me and broke the chain of our thoughts. Few children were shouting from the other end of the park, requesting me to throw the ball towards them. I took up the ball and threw it to them.
Sumit asked, 'What happened? Why are you looking so tensed? Did you talk to your father?'
'Yes. He said that the only thing he desires from me is to find a job and settle down. He feels that doing business is not my cup of tea.'
Sumit looked at me from the corners of his eyes. He could feel the stress and helplessness in my voice. I was fed up of looking for jobs and getting rejected all the time.
'And what happened to you? Why are you so distressed?' I asked.
'I feel like I'm going into depression.'
'What!' I exclaimed.
'Yes. I just don't feel like I'll be able to complete that story.'
'Don't say that. You have left your studies to pursue writing and now you say that you can't do this too!'
'Yes, I know what I'm saying. But I can't help it. When an idea comes to my mind, it seems to be very interesting. In fact, my every thought pins a story within me. Every sight leaves an idea. These rough walls, this old tree, everything seems to have a story of its own which they are telling in their own language. Every moment seems to hold a story within itself. What is it I don't know but it feels very strange. But when I start writing, I fall short of words. Even this story still brings multiple images in my mind but when it comes to writing, the result is the same.
I think I'm a loser, a good for nothing fellow.'
'Don't say that. Keep patience and you'll find your way. By the way, what is your this story about?' I asked.
'Trisoul', Sumit said.
'Trisoul! What does that mean?'
'It's a concept about our creation and reason for our existence. I have tried to explain it through this story. Would you like to listen?'
'Yes, of course. Go on', I said.
"24th December 2015. Varun was travelling down from Dhanbad to Bardhaman in a third AC compartment. It was almost midnight and most of the passengers were sleeping. The chilling cold outside the compartment was biting and the moonlight was trying to find its way through the dense fog surrounding the atmosphere. It was only from the outlines of the objects passing by, it could be said whether it was a tree or a house or a bridge. It felt like the train was climbing up the terrains of the Himalaya. Although he was sitting in the comforts of the air-conditioned compartment, he could feel the serenity of the air outside.
Varun's eyes were fixed on the man sitting opposite to him. The man looked a bit unusual. His deep eyes were fixed on a book which he was reading with seldom blinking of his eyes. The black cover page of the book read 'Trisoul' in italics. It looked as if he had been hypnotized by the book. He looked like a philosopher or a preacher. He wore a hat and had painted his face white like that of a clown.
Varun had to get down at Bardhaman station at 2.30 A.M, so he preferred to stay awake. However, sleep was trying to engulf him with all its might. So he decided to start a conversation with that man.
'Which book are you reading?' Varun asked.
The man placed a bookmark on the book and looked towards varun.
Without waiting for a reply from him, Varun introduced himself.
'Hello, I'm James, the man replied politely.
'What do you do?'
'I'm a storyteller and a mime artist'
'That sounds interesting. I mean I have never heard of a person who is a storyteller by profession. What type of stories do you tell?'
'Different kinds of stories. Sometimes I tell truths in my stories while sometimes make my stories true. Sometimes I create characters while sometimes become one myself. I show different forms and colours of life through my stories.' Said the storyteller.
'So, is that another book you are reading for storytelling? Varun enquired pointing towards the book he had just kept beside him.
'No No! the book has been penned down by me'
'Wow! That means you are a writer as well. what this book is about?' Varun asked excitedly
'Oh no! I'm not much of a writer. I write only for self. I'm the author and the only reader of my writings. I have named this book 'Trisoul'. It explains a concept of Trisoul which is still unknown to the world but I believe is the fundamental idea on which the universe exists.'
Trisoul ..... Hmmmm.... The word sounds exciting. What's that?' Varun asked as his curiosity started growing.
'Well, it's a collective term used for the three types of spirits that exist in the universe.'
'Spirits!' Varun couldn't understand what he was talking about.
'Yes. Call them spirits or call them feelings or ideas or whatever you like but this trisoul is something which keeps our life moving.'
'I didn't get you.' Varun said.
The man removed his hat and moved his left palm over his bald head and closed his eyes, thinking of how to start.
After a few moments, he started.
'Have you ever found a goal in your life which was so compelling that you were ready to sacrifice anything for achieving that goal?'
Varun thought for a while and said 'No'.
'Has any idea ever gripped your mind so strongly that it never left you even after your repeated attempts?'
'Has ever anything happened to you which has filled every drop of blood in your body with energy and excitement?'
'No, but I have surely seen people who probably feel like this at some point in their lives'
'Exactly. That's where I was going. There are people who experience an unending excitement and restlessness in their mind; Who find themselves always searching for something, sometimes knowingly and sometimes unknowingly. But at the same time, there are people like you and many others who are completely unaware of any such experience. They all are part of the Trisoul.
Still, Varun couldn't understand his words but he got interested in the subject and decided to continue the discussion. 'You mean to say Trisoul is about all of us?' he asked.
'Yes. A part of the universe exists in all of us which has no meaning individually. But when we unite ourselves with our other parts, our life derives a meaning, and so does the universe.'
'How does that happen?' Varun looked puzzled.
'You see, the universe has its own way to fulfill its dreams, my friend. It has millions of hands and millions of minds. It makes us dream and makes us run behind those dreams like insane. It helps us even to achieve those dreams and in this process, it fulfills its own millions of dreams. Fulfilling its dreams bit by bit keeps it moving on step by step. In this process, it derives meaning and a reason for its own existence.
'Sounds interesting but does this actually happen?' asked Varun.
'My experience says it happens.'
'But how does this trisoul works?'
'Do you have the time to listen?' the man asked after folding his legs and sitting comfortably over his berth.
Varun looked at his watch. It was 11.55. The man's posture assured Varun that the conversation would continue for long. Varun nodded in agreement.
The man started:
'When the universe creates us, it separates us in three different parts. Each part has a distinct nature of its own. Each of these three parts is then spread randomly anywhere in the universe. When we are born, we have one of these three parts within us which decides our basic nature. And our quest is to find out the other two parts to complete the trisoul.
'You mean to say that we all are parts of one or any other trisoul? Varun interrupted.
Varun thought that the man was mad who was talking nothing but rubbish. Still, it was better to listen to him rather than falling asleep and missing the station. So he decided to continue listening to him.
The man continued, 'One of these parts has active nature. A person who has this active part within him becomes the active part of the trisoul. From birth, he feels an extraordinary urge towards some particular idea. The idea that is created within him is so unique to him that nourishing that idea is divine for him.
In our lives, we come across some people who keep on working in their loneliness. They are always on a mission. They seem to be restless and mad. They are actually the active part of the trisoul. They keep on nourishing their idea until it becomes a meaningful concept.'
'So do they come at rest only after finding a meaningful idea?'
'No. They find peace only after they pass on that idea to the second part of the trisoul. This second part is known as the humble part. The humble part unknowingly awaits for the active part throughout its life until the communion happens.
'It is when the active meets the humble. This is the moment for which the active part awaits throughout his life, sometimes for multiple lives. And when this happens, the active part feels an unknown chord touching the deepest core of his heart. His most beloved idea which he had kept untouched and secure from the outside world flows like water into the mind of the humble part. They both feel an un-comparable pleasure never experienced before. The only difference between the feelings of the two is that the active part feels complete while the humble part still feels incomplete. The active part understands that he has achieved the absolute. He feels the freedom from the bondage of life and knows the reason for all that happened in his life. After a few days, his soul departs for his final journey. He is liberated from the unending circle of life and death and gets dissolved into the creator.'
'That's amazing! And what about the third part?' asked Varun.
'Well, the third part is the most peculiar one. It is the string that binds the active and the humble parts together. It is the concept or the idea that is nourished by the active part in his mind throughout his life, which he passes on to the humble part during communion. Without this, the communion is not possible even if the humble and the active parts meet before.'
'So the liberation and bliss are felt only by the active part of the trisoul? Don't the other parts experience the same?' asked Varun.
'The humble part does but not the third part. When the third part shifts from the active to the humble, all the energies and excitements of the active passes on to the humble. After that, every day of the humble becomes a mission. A mission to spread that third part to the whole world. Now this mission may take any degree of time but once it is accomplished, the second part also departs to its final journey. However, the third part remains in the world. This third part modifies its form to become a part of some other trisoul.
And yes, the communion does not necessarily take place in one lifetime. The humble part may have to wait for the active for any number of lifetimes until the right time for the communion comes.'
'That's what trisoul is all about.' said James completing his explanation.
The whole idea of trisoul left Varun speechless. His station was approaching so he got up and picked up his bag. 'That was a really wonderful concept. But I still doubt does this really happen?'
'I believe in it that's why I've written it.' said James. 'In fact, I've heard of many incidents which strengthen my belief. For example, Ramkrishna Paramhans, a legendary monk, when transferred all his knowledge to his disciple, Vivekananda, left his body. I feel that he was the active part of his trisoul while the knowledge was the third part, the string. And his disciple, who was the humble part, spread his knowledge to the whole world after which he too departed. In the same way, Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam, the President of India died while doing something which was his most beloved thing, teaching. I guess someone among those students who were listening to his lecture was the humble part who got tied with the strings of his teachings.'
Varun looked outside the train through the window. His station had approached. He greeted goodbye to James and went his own way.
For the whole night, Varun couldn't sleep. His thoughts were still tangled with the conversation he had with the strange man on the train. The next morning when he woke up, his eyes were red due to lack of sleep. He made a coffee for himself and sat down to scan quickly through the newspaper. As he read the headline on the front page, he dropped the coffee from his hand. The news gave him goosebumps. The news read that the Kolkata bound train (in which he was traveling last night) had met an accident before reaching its destination. One person was dead who was identified as a mime artist.
Varun was in complete shock. The trisoul kept on rolling on in his mind. The active part...the humble part....the string...the liberation and the whole concept filled his mind with innumerable thoughts and energy."
Thus Sumit ended his story and looked towards me for feedback.
'Sumit I strongly suggest you write it down. It's great. A wonderful piece. I guess people will simply love it. Get copyright on it and get it published.' I said. 'And who knows, with the death of a mime artist, a story writer may be destined to be born.'
Sumit shrugged in disappointment and said,' there the problem lies. I have tried a lot but I can't write it well.'
I guessed I had a way. The idea of writing it down for Sumit and getting it published jointly clicked my mind.
Sumit would get his story written and I would be able to start my own business of publishing. Though arranging for initial funds would be tough, I believed I could arrange that.
It had been quite dark by now so I decided to discuss the plan with him the next day.
From the gate of the park, we both parted for our homes. Not more than a few moments had passed that I turned back hearing a sharp collapsing noise from the back. A cold bolt ran down my spine and I stood there dumbstruck for few moments. A car had accidentally crushed Sumit and he was lying on the street, drenched in blood.
I quickly called for the ambulance in an attempt to save my friend.
While in the ambulance, Sumit said to me in a broken voice,
"The actives have... continued...creating ideas for ages and passing on their ideas... to the humbles..... The actives die, the humbles spread the ideas to the world and one day... they die too.... but the idea remains in this universe forever. It reaches different people with different thoughts and one day finds the one.... who would cherish it to transform it into a completely new idea. In this way, an active is born who starts his quest of his humble..... and finds the meaning of life. I have found mine with your help. It was the best storytelling of my entire life, my dear humble part.... Hope the story would reach the world in the best way possible.'
With a surreal smile for a moment, Sumit greeted goodbye to me forever.