WHERE THE FORM FORGETS THE SUBSTANCE TILL MEMORY BECKONS IT HOME

WHERE THE FORM FORGETS THE SUBSTANCE TILL MEMORY BECKONS IT HOME 

We are but waves, rising and falling on the surface of the ocean. To subside and be one with the ocean in the stillness of its core is the goal. It is a spherical ocean of sorts. The core is a sphere as well of infinitesimal small proportions where the surface meets the centre and the substance the form. Our peripheral subscriptions over, our day will be done and we shall merge in the ocean which we have always been, only through hallucination had perceived our fractional, separated identity. Now that the delusion is gone, peace perennial lies within with the without having been withdrawn into its source. The origin is dimensionless and no wave disturbs the peace there. Meantime, waves rise and fall as the ocean in patience waits, brooding on in depth-silence on its primeval beginnings and its interminable ends. But what does the wave say? It rushes on, advancing and receding, rising and falling in seemingly unending cycles. But there is a progression to it and there is an end to a wave's career even as the ocean billows on.

Written by Sugata Bose