Never did I imagine I would be asked a question like this. But life rarely unfolds the way we expect, does it?
I hesitate to call these experiences ‘mysteries’, for the word suggests something beyond explanation, and I am not convinced that what I witnessed defies science. It may simply be that I am yet to find an explanation. With that in mind, here I wish to speak about three episodes from my childhood that have stayed with me.
The first is something I experienced in the second or third grade. One night I went to bed and it felt as though I had only blinked. Yes, just blinked. In what seemed like the next instant, it was morning. Yes, it was. Eight hours had passed in a jiffy! At the time it felt strange. Now I apprehend it may have been deep and uninterrupted sleep. So perhaps that one is not a mystery after all.
The second incident is harder to explain. I remember waking early one morning and seeing my crèche caretaker appear to me as the goddess Saraswati. Her name was Sharada (another name of the goddess spoken of), which makes the memory even more striking. It may have been imagination, or a kind of waking dream. Or was I hallucinating? I cannot say with certainty what it was.
The third involves a recurring dream from my fourth or fifth grade. In it, I would climb a flight of stairs and see a statue of Shiva. The dream repeated several times. One night I actually became aware that I was dreaming. I chose to fall from the stairs, and after that, the dream never returned.
What are these? Mysteries, or moments waiting for explanation? I am inclined to believe the latter. Still, they remain with me, carrying a quiet sense of wonder. Here is a Petrarchan sonnet (not a Shakespearean one, though I did try that form before, in vain), revised several times in pursuit of perfection. I hope you enjoy it.
Mysteries
The times were strange when I was very young;
Oh, mysteries is what some called what I’d seen,
But none could tell what any of it might mean,
Nor knew the paths through which my thoughts had run.
Some laughed at me, while others lightly sung
Of all I said in words both sharp and keen;
Yet none could grasp what I had truly been
Through in those days when I was still so young.
This question stirs the echoes of that state,
And draws from me reflections, full and free;
For mysteries have always shaped my taste.
Yet still I know they may hold some key,
And we must pause before we name it fate,
Or say with ease what is or ought to be.
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