THE CLiMBER

And I climb up the stairs, blinded by the blinding light of the blind sun. I stay, but I am in constant motion. I climb up and up and up to reach that top. That place where the sun is; that top where the light is born. I am a Climber.

I walk up the stairs slowly with measured steps and streamlined thoughts. I know success from failure, but not right from wrong. Everything, it has been said so for ages, is fair in love and war, so I start to define my climb and everything else within those two parenthesis. My climb is not easy; it needs dedication and hard-work, concentration and righteousness. I climb alone, it is not that I have always been alone; I have had companions throughout my journey. I have helped them with my experience and time. I have given them my time, yes and they have given me company and entertainment in return. I am not afraid to walk alone and I have not really wanted someone besides me, they are a distraction, a distortion to your plans. I chose solitude. But they say success is a magnet and you can’t help attracting people, they have come to me and have always been a pain after those initial days of freshness. They lose their fragrance and I wake up from the momentary interruption and start to climb up my stairs. I cannot deny the truth that hides in me and I want to bare it all, yes, I want an audience, I want them to witness my unflinching and defiant climb; I want them to writhe in pain, pain of jealousy. Well, this is what my journey is about, I am no Buddha and I have desires however tiny it may be. I am open to desires and I have no thought to be a Buddha. I have been born to be a Climber.

And as I climb I see people, wasting themselves away. I see a rose covered in dust but blooming, I see it when my stairs pass through the desert. I am not drawn to the beauty, and I don’t stoop low to pluck it and smell it, or put it as a show. I don’t see it, I just pass by it. Under the tutelage of haste, I held the orchids in desert in abeyance. I cannot get distracted; I am a Buddha when it comes to this. I am a Robot; programmed and efficient.

I see lovers in arms and I am awe struck by the eerie resemblance of the boy’s face to mine, sharing the same features; the sharp nose and tiny lips. The eyes are the same too, but his are moist and mine dry. His face seems lost but beautiful, mine is resolute and I don’t really care for how I look. But I spare a minute of my precious time to examine the couple lost in unyielding love. Love can’t keep us alive, Eagles. I see how the boy draws tendrils on the girl’s skin, tracing the veins below the polythene skin. He derives great pleasure and absolute bliss, and I think what the hell is this! And I spare another couple of minutes for the couple and look at them in earnest. I hear soft moans of pleasure escape the girl’s lips, and I see sudden spark lighting up the boy’s eyes. Moist eyes are wet now when the ears hear the words coming in slow breath from the girl’s lips. They seem lost, and I know they are losing a treasure. They, I see, have wasted a century sitting on the stairs, stagnant and dreamy. I see them laughing and smiling and occasionally looking up the stairs to the sun and adjusting themselves to warm their backs. I see them looking into each other’s eyes and getting closer, they don’t know the value of anything, the spendthrift couple are just centimeters away from each other’s face. I laugh meekly and turn my back to them and climb up. I have already lost a lot because of the conjurers, I cannot afford to stay longer I have mountains to conquer, I have the stairs to climb, I am a Climber.

And I know now what my life is going to be up there. I walk delighted and happy but the sorcerer still plays tricks inside my head and conjures images of them in eternal bliss. An illusion my heart is falling for. I come out of the trap with a wave of my hand and try to stay focused. I think of my lost time and climb towards my destiny, that I chose, unwavering and stronger than ever.

I jump up the stairs, now that the destination is near. It is like coming toward the end of a book, you rush through the last few pages to finish it off or to rather know how it ends. The last few stairs are the place where you waver, you tremble and you falter. I know all these and even though I rush, I know my way like the back of my hand, I am steady but fast. Well, I do not know how the back of my hand looks; I have always looked at the fairer side, the smoother side of everything. Dark doesn’t hold a meaning for me; this is why I am a Climber. I have a clear mind and a clear conscience, I know what I want. I come across diamonds strewn on the path, shining brightly under the bright evening sun giving the stones a rather pale hue, but they’re bright like stars. I look at them and see the Shaula and a little further the Antares, the Antares flickers constantly. I see the shape they form and I see diamonds everywhere now. I see Hamal, Dabih and Pollux. I see them all scattered on the stairs and I walk on. I climb. And just two steps below my mountain top, I stop. I have seen the stars somewhere; I have seen the shape the diamonds made on the floor, somewhere. Thousands of years ago, on the stairs, on these very steps, I had seen a couple. I had seen the diamonds in the lines and the curls that the boy made on the girl’s skin. I look up to the top, towards the sky; I see a lone sun and the sky devoid of all stars. I stare at the northern sky where I need to be and I see the Regulus falling down. I see them all fall down. I have to go up; I have to climb up no matter how the sky is; no matter if it is empty. I will reach there. I will climb. I am a climber.

The above extract has been taken from Kashiv’s diary, Delirium.

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