I woke up from her........veils of Maya

I am in a pretty nostalgic and philosophical mood..... hold on.... don't sit back, sometimes it can be as bad as jumping in front of a senile man eating Tiger. It's usually the twilight that brings out the worst in me, a la Hyde. But the logistical difficulties of the time has precluded my jolting down those musings (I don't have a laptop at home). So I am trying to recollect the same philosophical sentiments that had overwhelmed me in their deluge. The night was pretty nostalgic where I had the fortune to be hearing raptfully the gentle notes from the Pt. Chaurasia's basuri. The music which is supposed to call out to the wandering and tired mendicant to wake from the excruciating shackles of Maya in this world. The January cold was taking it's toll and I walked towards the Cafeteria to get a cupful of coffee to warm me up. And there I found "her". The one who used to give me myriad hues in my dreams..... but that was all a year back since she was solemnised and I being solemnised to my own idiosyncrasies of dealing with it all. Liquor, lacerates, lachyrmations and finally refuge under a religious school called ISKON and the loads of eccentric works from Nietzsche to Oriental Spiritualism to spend my nights with. And yesterday I saw her with another boy..... though it was blatant manifest jealousy momentarily, it was an insight into the ways of this life. There she was, who a year before was in my arms now walking sedately with someone and I was there totally inconspicuous to the same eyes which yearned to see me earlier. I was totally helpless, weak and there was the truth. The whole world was once under my foot and suddenly you wake up to find it was never there, worse the foot that you thought was inviolable lay sedate. The moment which is bound to come to all of us someday when we realise the trials and tribulations; the victories and triumphs which you thought were your's forever were never there. I found me shrinking, the body that I was suddenly began to sublimate to the nonexistence and inanimateness that permeated around me.
The night I got engrossed in the book The Age of Kali or the Kali Yug totally oblivious to what had hit me a few hours back. Suddenly the chapter The City of Widows teleported me to the city of Vrindavan.... an ocean of beautiful women chanting in front of their beloved One. The Sat Chit Ananda, the one who gives pleasure of the infinite kind. They were bald and emaciated, thrown out of their abodes. I found myself in their midst utterly flurried. The strength of their frail frames and their insurmountable will. Somehow I could identify with them, though to lesser extent maybe, but overwhelmed by their might. The Kali Yug gone by, the cataclysm couldn't touch them, though a mote of spark had left me completely burned. There was lots for me to wake up to and "The Power" rightly made me to stumble upon them the night I needed them most. Maybe I would never know why, but that power has somehow always guided me in sometimes subtle ways when I needed it most. I took to my bed late into the night in a daze and there was the fan humming, the Kala Chakra slowly turning, creaking through waiting for Kali to pass over and for the tomorrow to arrive, for him to wake me up in Vrindavan to the million chants around me.