The glacier

An identity

Chapter 3 The glacier

“Its the basic premise in Hindu writings,” Neela said. “ For almost 5,000 years, the Indian response to all inquiries regarding the truth of what we are, consisted in the expression of this one line �" that the self starts with knowing itself and then due to its fondness for having fun, it creates a pretense that it has forgotten who it is and thereafter undertakes the creation of the universe, to rediscover itself again. This goes on in perpetual circles in eternity.”

“It's the words that you are using,” Mike responded softly. “Each word has a specific meaning and it leads to the cultivation of a specific perception which we thereafter subscribe to.”

The cold wind bit into their faces. It blew with an intent to awake in the person, something long forgotten. It blew persistently.

They were camped on a high cliff that abruptly ended just beyond the tree line. In front of their camp, beyond the abyss, the mountain rose again and in deep snow climbed the rest of the way to the peak several miles away. The ground they camped on was rock granite. They had pitched two tents and had a fire going to warm up their food.

In the comfort of their woolen clothing and windbreakers, they considered carefully, the issues they were engaged in.

Neela was using a stick to poke into the fire.

Mike was about nine years old that year, when his father had driven him into McDonald's, that wintry December morning, for a big mac.

“But how will I know how to drive?” Mike had asked his father.

“You will have to go to driving school. Then you'll learn,” his father had said.

“Is that what you did?” asked Mike.

“Yes,” the father had replied.

“So the school knows how to drive?” he asked again, after a while.

“The driving instructor......,” his father corrected him, “ he knows how to drive and he will teach you.”

“So I must listen to what he tells me?” the boy continued.

“Yes,” the father had replied.

Mike had turned to the toy gun that he held in his hand. He aimed it at the car ahead of them on the street. A frown had suddenly appeared on his face.

“But how will I know that he is telling me the truth?” he asked.

“Because he knows how to drive....,” his father had considered briefly, “ that is why......what he is telling you would be true.”

“So if I listened to him and did all that he asked me to.....I will know how to drive?” Mike had sought confirmation.

“Yes,” his father had replied.

Through the windscreen they could see the McDonald's outlet by the side of the road.

“Is what everybody says true?” the boy had asked.

“You mean about everything?” the father had responded.

Mike had nodded tentatively.

The father signaled to turn into the right lane ahead of McDonald's, for the turn he would be making. He seemed to be considering the question carefully.

He took a moment to think of the icon of the Madonna in his study. His mind was briefly distracted. He then made his choice. The boy is growing, he had considered. ' Grow first, trim later,' the thought formed in his mind.

“Nobody has a reason to deliberately lie to another,” he replied, just as he made the turn into McDonald's.

“You mean that all people are good?” Mike had asked.

“They will not lie without a reason,” his father responded.

“So everybody is honest?” he asked.

“Everybody is good inside,” his father offered, “ you can believe anything that anybody says until it becomes proven in your experience that it is false.”

They had ordered their meal to go and carried their paper bags to the children's playground next to the outlet. As they sat on a bench and took out their food packets, the girl at the counter came over to the father with his wallet in her hand, which she extended to him.

“You left it behind,” she said.

His father had thanked her and with a slight frown had pushed it into his back pocket. Then with a sudden after thought, turned to Mike.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

Mike had found himself smiling with a happiness that floated and waved with the leaves on the trees all around them.

“Yeah,” he had said, with a growing affirmation of satisfaction.

They bit into their big macs. The taste is never consistent, however, a big mac is a big mac, it is us who are sometimes changed in the way we respond.

“Call me Gangothri?” Neela asked.

“What?” said Mike as he turned to look at Neela.

“My name....can you call me Gangothri from now on? It is what my father named me and I think it shows my personality better.”

“Yeah....Gangothri.... “ Mike confirmed, with a strange new light in his eyes.

“It is strange, I know..... ,” Gangothri said, “ one moment this thing you know is Neela and then suddenly it has changed to …..Gangothri.... , but I am the same person.”

“Yeah....okay,” Mike had drawled.

Reviews

[patricia]

The cold wind bit into their faces, it blew with an intent to awake in the person, something long forgotten. It blew persistently...A deep and poetic sentence, great line!
grow first - trim later...the way the father considers his reply here was astounding, the idea to wait and withold an impulsive reply, i cant even express what i am trying to say here...but the wisdom in what the father is doing is amazing.
This story is quite intriguing ...with the child pointing the toy gun, and other chapters with weapons, it will be interesting to see where it is going, i think i can see the blue print a little.
Thanks.