Essay:
Momila
The Metamorphosis of an Evening with Devkota
An individual who is born spontaneously, matures spontaneously, traverses the journey of life spontaneously! During the odyssey, unexpectedly, the evening of fragmented life has undergone a metamorphosis, transmuting into a distinctive literary soirée. The revered creator Devkota, who analyzes and contemplates his feelings in the dim evenings along with heart-engraved pictures by day, is mesmerized by the melodies of mountain springs so that he is envisioning radiant energy and musicality emanating from myriad exquisite waterfalls cascading down the sacred heart hills in the nocturnal realm. However, Devkota, who is saddened by the realization that this natural beauty flows without purpose, is sprinkling the water of consciousness on himself for self-purification, as the season of life continues. Probably, he is resonating within the dark hues of rhythmic recollection, where life's sorrows and joys dance to the cadence of the heart's pulsations. Perhaps he is seeking philosophical contemplation while gazing upon a blossoming rose.
The evening gradually transforms into a silver night! .... !!
In a sense, like the spontaneous flow of water, my odyssey of consciousness finds itself momentarily paused in front of Devkota right now. Even the ebony-hued-looking verdant hills bow themselves in obeisance before him. The full moon in the celestial expanse is recurrently veiled from our gaze, casting a shroud of dark sorrow upon the earth. It is as if an ebony march of vibrant blooms is advancing in opposition to humans. Right at the moment, even the vibrant splendor of flowers remains unabated within the recesses of the human psyche! While despite the harsh gusts of wind that sweep across the veil of life's passion, the footsteps of an upcoming fragrant image spread across the horizon...to the beyond. The blossoms of the same ebony march momentarily forget all their external hues, converging into the eternal color of life, imbued with sorrow for its inevitable demise. And, once more, the iridescent dream spans across the sky. Perhaps this is how people must have envisioned heaven for relief from countless afflictions!
At the moment, marked solely by the eloquence of silence between us, one of his divine curiosities, manifested through speech, approached and halted before me, inquiring, "What is the meaning of your presence within the confines of my sphere?"
Revered addressee!
In reality, the very absence of a conclusive meaning of being 'I' is the essence of my being here. But it may no longer have the same meaning now. In perusing the lines, you have penned and delving into the nuances of your entreaty with a genuine deference, I find that the import inherent in your prose transcends singular interpretation, resonating variably with diverse perceptions. In other words, the veracity perceived by others stands distinct from the veracity that aligns with my own comprehension. However, the hue of your suffering mirrors that of others, identical to my own. Yet, getting drenched in the downpour of meaning, I as the arid and thirsty riverbank, presenting myself before you, oh ocean.
Though shriveled the whole night in restlessness and melancholy, at present, in the contours of your countenance, I am discerning the semblance of a sunflower imbued with love after the embrace of the dearest sun: where I am currently immersed in the love ballad inspired by the sounds of nature, which is composed when rivers, streams, and waves behold the sunlight atop the summit in the immaculate hues of life drenched in perspiration. Somewhere, like the thrilling elegance of the rainbow; sometimes, like a floral deluge unfolding atop a mountain peak; somewhere, like the very moon descending from heaven into the courtyard; and sometimes, I am reading you like a lump sum abstract image of myriad twisted forms reflected in each shard of a pain-ridden heart, fractured like the shattering of a mirror...! ...!!
Just as the rays of the sun rising in the midnight sky must eventually touch the earth in the midst of darkness, it appears that today you have descended to the ground in a similar fashion—becoming a beam in the obscurity of my heart. As if standing in the scorching desert, I am weaving a melody of snow unknown to your ears, a song unheard in the pages of your life's composition! A song of the rising sun in the embrace of midnight!! A love song always sung in your absence!!!
Perhaps articulating the architecture of your heart eludes my linguistic grasp. However, every time in my dream, when the waves of enigmatic feelings seek to caress you, you return like a zephyr coursing through the peripheries of my lyrical compositions, and today, in reality, I have attained your presence by dismantling a tenacious mountain within my being. Instead of becoming ensnared within the monotonous and uninteresting narrative that keeps persistently repeating, rather than traversing the fractured trails of formal life, I have ventured into your premises, exploring and forging off-the-beaten paths, satiating off-the-beat cravings that soar towards the heavens. For I was aware that you would never seal the portal of your heart.
Despite barred doors and a mountain of restrictions in the journey, life continues to flow...!...!!
Indeed, each individual in this world remains a stranger. In this sense, he stands as the primary witness to his own existence. Hence, one should not regard even the blossoms perceived as one's own as truly one's own. They consecrate to the divine if encountered on the path. However, the fragrance and beauty inherent in the flower are only those of the flower. That remains unbounded by dedication; that is, the beauty of flowers belongs to all enthusiasts of florals rather than being beholden to those who harbor disdain. Perhaps arguing like this, lovers may age, yet the melodic verses of love endure in perennial youth, the reverberations of your poetry, which, in dating with life and nature, persist as the harmonious melody echoing through rivers, hills, mountains, forests, birds, and waterfalls!... they keep echoing!... keep echoing!!
Dear addressee!
I find myself ensconced in the bygone, having forsaken the pursuit of my present amidst the veracity. Now, I aspire to exist solely within the essence of the future's present. In this context, right now, I embody my own essence as the present; my very being constitutes my immediate reality- a testament to the unfolding present; the affection I harbor serves as the embodiment of my present; in your proximity and within your presence, my being constitutes the present moment.
Having endured the arduous final evening of my century and embracing the risks of the impending nightfall, I sought refuge in your presence. Despite the encroaching dusk, I have assembled the disparate collages of life onto a canvas and hung them on the wall of an ancient art gallery. The ascending youthful night! The rendezvous place of the heart!! How resplendent the milieu is!!! Your poems, being butterflies, have wandered upon a sojourn to distant realms, whereupon their weary wings have now found repose upon the confines of my bosom. What a serendipitous encounter this has turned out to be! I seek a sanctuary within your heart; your verses entreat for a haven within mine.
In reality, to what extent you have deceived your experience in your written expressions, to what degree you have metamorphosed into the adversary, to what extent you have assumed the role of your own critic, or sought solace within the embrace of self-assurance! You may be aware of this fact. However, in the world of your poetry and essays, you were always looking for a global perspective on life. In the intrinsic dialogue with oneself, there does exist a tapestry of acceptance, interwoven with strands of prohibition and threads of coordination, for which basically the illumination and obscurity of your sentiments should suffice. Nevertheless, at that time, somewhere, you did descend beyond the confines of your own realm! Well, you are master in navigating the realm of artistic ventures, whether encapsulated within parentheses or extending beyond them. I extend my admiration for your risk-taking artistry.
Again, in the tempest of this worldwide conflict, when we have to drift unexpectedly at a purposeless velocity, sometimes it appears as a grand discordant comedy of our existence within the mental geography. Hence, I am having a delightful exchange with you, but in these vignettes, news junkies shall find no trace of regional, national, or international frivolous narratives pertaining to specific incidents. However, the feelers shall receive rhythmic love narratives composed from the depths of our hearts.
This night is so pleasant that I am disinclined to broach the topic of suicide with you in any manner because we have to live in this world and assimilate life and the world. I find myself enamored with the sheer beauty of the world, life, and existence. Though might be a mistake, now in this very world, I have to share love, warmth, tenderness, and harmony. I have to feel the most beautiful poetry of this life and world.
… but you are engaging in an act of self-destruction, aren’t you? You are smoking! You, the one who has grasped the comprehension of absolute conscious life; you, the one who soars as clouds amidst the tempest, I know not what mysterious enchantment guides you there, but you are imbibing a slow poison. The mountains where the pulsating heart of existence finds repose are here, I guess! A splendid array of colors and luminosity are here, I guess! The heart that descends from life and ascends unto life itself; the heart that lives in life and suffers from pain; and the hearts that shatter like a mirror, fragmenting amidst myriad scenes when afflicted by numerous pains are also here, I guess! As you said, by making the painful history a curriculum and school for yourself with the poignant history of life, there are also hearts that love that pain and live festively, I guess! Well! Ignorant of the very beauty of life, poor, even I don't know what kind of country lies in the distance from the vibrancy of life!
It is not so that I also did not think of ending my life as per my wish! As you live, you must also endure its inescapable trials. Again, a thought kept on echoing - If I am finished, who will rescue you? But alas! You have imbibed poison that you should never have tasted. Perhaps continuing this earthly sojourn too will only bring you anguish. Hence, there will be no point in saving you. Again, indeed, if a true bliss is found in departing existence with a crimson exodus, then let us partake in the full array of ceremonies and, in unison, embrace our final moments amidst the euphony of sirens and jubilant melodies, bidding adieu with a celebratory symphony of farewell. But..., why are you unresponsive? Perhaps, with each passing moment, the dread of enduring the anguish of loss, of departing while the melodies and the love of music still yearn within you, has plunged you into a fear! In this moment, I yearn for liberation by transposing the soothing words given to me by my philosophical feelers into your heart- "You should never yield tears in the face of bereavement! Because the tragic reality is that all sorrowful worlds must reach their inevitable mathematical conclusion."
Behold, the stars are descending from the dawn heavens. I beseech the plummeting stars for the longevity of your life. Yet, enveloping yourself in the fumes of your own self-destruction, you cascade down a mountain of anguish. Unexpectedly, oh, how you have vanished, dissolving into the emptiness of the firmament like nothingness.
For you, the dawn of each new day no longer holds significance. However, you have become a special meaning in my life - an eternal dawn, untouched by the fading hues of twilight. You have become the most beautiful poem I could never compose to date, and you have become a supernatural gamut of poetry.
Yes, you have departed from my presence, but I had to serenade the poignant melody of farewell and craft a poetic ode bidding adieu. You cannot, even if you want to share the anguish of separation with anyone. Meanwhile, those who leave remain oblivious to the profound ache that lingers in the hearts of those they leave behind. Thus, though in imagination or a rehearsal of my departure, I relinquish you in this life, in a corner of the earth, and set sail for the distant pole, with the yearning to return to this world, not another.
But as I ascend the mountain, leaving you behind in the foothills, I shall seek your tidings amidst the whispers of the wind that caress the winding road; I shall entwine the rhythm of your adoration into the symphony of the waterfall; I shall etch the poignant hues of unfulfilled dreams upon the canvas of autumnal leaves; and with the chisel of belief, I shall infuse spirit in the stumbling stones in your path.
Ascending the hilltop, I will traverse paths where your absence echoes loudest. Yet, even upon reaching the pinnacle, I shall not have the stubborn yearning to transcend the mortal realm and fetch you the celestial stars, unburdened by copyright. For I shall linger upon life's surface, reluctant to venture beyond life's bracket, experiencing the ecstasy of ascent and the agony of descent.
Furthermore, the moon and stars adorn the celestial canvas, and I love the very flower of the earth blooming amidst the thorns. Just as I am reluctant to confine the earth within the constraint of a singular adjective, so too shall I remember you, not with a string of adjectives. After all, it is you alone, to whom, in the twilight of my existence, I desired to offer the entirety of my remaining morrows, echoes of my bygone days; to whom I desired not to offer the present, which was never mine.
Even leaving you like this, melancholy clings to my soul. Even the fragrance of sorrow emanating from the lips of a rose is ceaselessly exuding from my mouth… I am listening to your written echoes of sorrow too, which resonate in every sigh of relief I take, and in tandem, your tears cascade from my eyes. Perhaps never before had I heard or read anyone like you. Upon immersing myself in the profound depths of your philosophy and suffering, did I realize that, bit by bit, I am engulfed within the abyss of your philosophy and suffering...! And, I am feeling strongly the undeniable pulse of life, even though I succumb to the gradual engulfment ...!!
Presently, I am in a state of rhythmic love and torture created by a rhythmic attachment to you. However, within this rhythmic awakening coursing through me, there exists no mere captivation of achievement; a realm where loosing is meaningless and the melancholic prospect of parting finds no foothold. Henceforth, I am inclined to defer the juncture of ideological metamorphosis entirely. I am averse to traversing beyond the affirmative threshold, where the onset of yet another tragic potential looms.
Translation: Chandra Bahadur Lama
