Devil's Chronicle : Chapter 10

Why did I come back?

A question I keep asking myself.

'To understand' I said to her.

'To understand what?' she asked.

'What makes you so special? What made Him ask us, Ancients, to kneel before you?' I answered.

' You wanted to understand?' She roared, grabbing my collar,'Is that your justification? You played with my life, killed my son, so that you could understand?

‘I did nothing. Neither did He. You did it all’ I replied.

She stared at me, tears of frustration running down her cheek. I slowly released her clasps on my collar; never could stand being touched. She walked back towards her chair, sat heavily on it.

She sat in the darkness thus for a long time. I too made myself comfortable on my sofa and watched her.

‘ I asked for this?’ she asked me in a whisper.

‘Well, not asked, rather you wished it. When you ask, you let someone else become the doer.’

Sometimes I have noticed , putting you in a corner has its benefits. It brings you out. The actual you.

“ Why do your grieve death?” I asked.

“ Its not death I grieve for, its my child. He was taken away from me, I grieve for him. His misfortune of a life unfulfilled, the meaningless of his existence” She replied. “ moreover I grieve for me , The tearing away of a life I produced, the love I felt, the lack of his presence….the meaningless of my existence.”

I kept my silence. I have heard this for centuries, this yearning due to your clinging.

‘ His death has destroyed all that I have felt. My faith in a god who could do this, or rather a life which has no seeming purpose other than to be born and to die. I loath my being alive to experience this sorrow. I loath having to face another day and seeing everything going on as it was while my life is destroyed. I loath the teachings which tells me to accept it and to learn from it. How easy it seems for others to be objective about me pain and to offer me those empty words of condolences. How can anyone understand? Other than a mother? What sort of a god permits this pain to exist? What sort of god allows his children to go through this?’ she stopped.

She was not done. She continued, ‘ You are right. I should have known why you came to me. Iam shaken of faith and I no longer belive. Iam paying for my lack of faith. This is my punishment for doubting. You knew me from within, you saw and you waited. I failed the test and now I have lost my child and through that I have lost my desire to live. Yet I do not regret. I would never accept a god who acts the way he did. I cannot worship something that cruel, unforgiving and without compassion. I deny him.’

She stood up, tears flowed down her face. ‘ They say that you are his adversary, bring my son back , put it how it was before, take me to the day I saw you last. Do this for me and Iam yours. Do what you will with me but let me have my life as a mother to my son.’

‘ Its not for me to give or take’ , I said. ‘ I merely observe. You can give me nothing that I really want. You over estimate me . I too am like you. A creature in search the meaning of my existence. Your passions, your attachments , your desires , all of it , have no meaning from where I stand. To me you look pitiful, loathful, pathetic; with your constant births and never ending yearnings from which so few of you have actually emerged. You cry for your son when thousands of sons have died on the very moment your son did. Yet, you cannot feel that pain. To you your pain is more engulfing. You never seem to realize that all situation that you experience can be borne with the same calmness if you see it from the correct perspective. That all emotions are indulgences. Merely your way of enforcing upon your intellect your existence.’

‘Then why are you here?’ she asked , ‘ to watch me grieve my loss? To mock my faith? To hover around like a vulture attracted to my misfortune? Is that your great purpose , you exalted one? To look upon us pitiful creatures , watch us and feel for yourself a greater destiny? What is it that you seek by being here , in my house , at this hour?’ Her voice raised in octaves with each sentences .

‘Of course!’ she said, turning towards me with a sarcastic smile, ‘ you want to hear me say that you were right’

‘You are right’ she continued, ‘ my basis of faith has no foundation. My beliefs were handed down to me so I have no understanding of it. My beliefs were blind acceptances. Are you happy? I stand before you destroyed, having lost the meaning of my existence and I have nothing to hold on to , no hope, no god, no meaning....are you finally satisfied? Do you finally understand? I have nothing to live for. Is that what you hoped to achieve? And you say I wished for this? Wished for all this? Wished for my child's death?

'Yes' I answered. I never could win any popularity contest.

'You are a species with an inherent need for experiences and you thrive on it. You are emotion junkies.You have slated yourself to experience those experiences through your emotions. Take a good look at yourself. You have become the experience that you craved for. Your drama. Your expressions. Your poor bleeding life. All your own making.Then you need someone to take the blame when you feel a little lost.You are here because you wanted to be here, to experience what you are feeling right now.' I stopped for breath.

'And Iam here ' I continued, 'because I too am part of your need to experience.'

'I wished for my Son's death? She whispered.

'No' I corrected,'that was his own wish.'

'Dont you see? Its all about you. Everything comes together to let you have what ever you want.'

'What is it that I wanted when I wished for all this?' she asked.

'How am I to know?' I answered.' Its your fucking life.'

We looked at each other.

Then the door bell rang.