A gaunt man walked along the muddy bank of a mighty river. His wooden sandals tried to avoid the potholes and the murky puddles but in doing so, they generated splashes which flew and landed on his saffron robes. His forehead crinkled in distaste before his brown eyes closed in resignation as he continued to march.
The loud crackling of burning wood and the scent of ash seeped into his senses as he crossed another smouldering pyre. For a moment, his eyes fell on the child that maintained a silent vigil beside the burning pyre and the saffron-clad man sighed. The boy was young, barely around 10 years of age and dressed in robes of pure white while his head was shaved of all hair. But those were not what drew the gaunt man’s attention.
It was the vacant look in the dried eyes of the child who had not even seen 10 change of seasons, that had sought him out. The emptiness in the boy’s eyes spoke of the hardships that awaited the young boy. Perhaps, his white clothes and the shaved head would garner sympathy. But for how long?
The man shook his head and continued to walk with a slight bitterness etched onto his face. Now that he had reached the third Tier, he had to distance himself from the worldly emotions and recognise the illusion for what it was. However, was that something so easily achieved?
He was a mortal after all, not an immortal. He could not help but feel for his fellow mortals. A single pyre and a devastated child had shaken his heart. How would he distance himself from his mortality with such a heart?
A breath escaped him as he sighed but he continued to walk along the bank where the dead were burnt to free them of their mortal longings. ‘Perhaps this is why Acharya Ji lives here.’
The saffron-clad man continued to walk and as he walked, he passed more and more pyres. With the sun bidding goodbye for the night and the skies painted pink, the orange glow of the pyres and the crackling of the burning wood caused a chill to dance on his dark skin. The man shivered before he folded his hands.
“Spirits here and Spirits all. I bow to the truth within one and all.” The mumble escaped his rapidly chilling lips. “Please let me pass.”
The chill dissipated at the gaunt man’s prayer while the deathly glow of the orange fires retreated. “Be blessed, one and all. Be blessed.”
The man shook himself and hastened his footsteps as he continued his march to the person he sought. He crossed pyres and he assuaged spirits. He saw those whose tears still flowed and those whose tears had dried. He saw those that mourned the dead and those that had made peace with the death.
Eventually, he arrived at a sacred fig tree whose trunk was as massive as a mortal’s house. Its triangular but circular leaves formed a canopy that was wide enough to provide shade to several mortal homes. While numerous thin wines fell from its thick branches and sought to dig into the earth below. Despite its sinister imaginary, the uncountable scared red threads tied around its massive trunk changed the tree’s essence from ominous to divine.
However, underneath the massive canopy of the sacred tree sat a thin man that was entirely naked. However, that was not the most peculiar thing about him, for his entire body was covered in white ash of the burnt pyres, which flacked off of his skin as he moved. His white hair was matted and dirty and formed dreadlocks while his ancient beard was white and filthy. A necklace of mortal teeth hung down his neck.
The ash-covered man stopped devouring a half-burned mortal thigh, from one of the pyres that did not burn completely, to look up the approaching saffron-clad man. His yellowed eyes narrowed as they scanned the approaching figure before his gaze shifted to emptiness surrounding the newcomer.
“Get lost! Get lost!” The naked man barked and waved his bony hand at the saffron-clad man. “What are you surrounding this poor boy for?! Go haunt your kinfolk who refuse to pay their respects! Go! Begone!”
The atmosphere became lighter, the air lost its oppressiveness and the receding light grew brighter.
“Pranam Acharya Ji.” The saffron-clad middle-aged man greeted the ash-covered one with folded hands and a bowed head.
“Knowledge be yours.” The Acharya blessed with his right hand raised before he ordered. “Sit down. Sit down. Any spot is as good as any other.”
Guru Pranay sighed as he sat on the muddy ground and his saffron robes were drenched in wet mud. However, before the naked man, he neither dared complain nor call himself a guru. He was but an ignorant child in front of the man that devoured mortal flesh like a ravenous animal.
“Acharya Ji,” Pranay addressed the naked man, though his voice was low and tired. “It has been quite some time since I reached the third Tier, yet I can’t see the illusion of the lie that it is.”
The ash-covered man, Acharya Aditya, continued to devour the half-burned mortal flesh till he had a mouthful and thickly swallow. He eyed the middle-aged man before him and scoffed. “Ha! No wonder you can’t!”
Pranay’s head dipped and he folded his hands again. “I seek guidance from you Acharya. Please help.”
Acharya Aditya remained silent for a while as he contemplated before he suddenly barked. “Law-scars! Tell me what you know of them.”
Pranay breathed deeply to centre his thoughts before he spoke. “In all creatures there exists a link between them and the Gods. This link is the Bridge on which we accumulate Law-scars as a result of the experiences we go through. These accumulated Law-scars are the sum of a person’s existence and are the tools through which we break into higher Tiers and manifest the 3 Spirit Skills.”
“Although Law-scars do not affect our daily lives, no creature can live without them.” Pranay finished speaking and became silent as he waited for the other man to judge. However, what he had just surmised was mortal knowledge and was not entirely correct.
Bridges were not the link in between mortals and gods. Instead, Bridges were the link between the instincts of a Vessel and its soul. The creation of this link resulted in the creation of the Egos that ruled the mortal and immortal Vessels. Thus, Egos were merely a by-product of the existence of Bridges. Egos were just happy accidents.
“If you know this,” The naked-man scowled and ash fell from his wrinkled forehead in flakes, “then why do you live the way you do? Your Bridge has too few Law-scars of asceticism! Likely from your [Shishya] days. How can you see the illusion for what it is?”
“You mean…”
“Abandon the world. Abandon the Ashram. Abandon your desires. And abandon your family!”
-X-
Within a desolate desert, inside a dilapidated shop, on a simple chair, a youth seemingly slept.
-X-
