This post is written as part of ‘#AtoZChallenge: Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. Today is the last day for Letter Z which stands for Zinda and hope you liked the outing in April. It’s the third consecutive time that I am taking part in A2Z and will most probably be my last. It was a great month connecting, reading fab blogs and bonding online with you people. I tried to be at my creative best doing this fiction thriller revolving the life of a man who became a superstar in Mumbai , losing his memory and conquering his enemies. Hope you had fun reading the theme inspired like Hindi potboilers of the 70s and 80s.
Zinda is a Hindi word that means being alive.
I feel truly alive today. I can breathe fresh air and de-clutter negativity from life. There is no mad dash to make it big in life. The past is behind me. It’s my first day in the ashram and I keep saying mein Zinda hoon (I am living every minute of life), surrounded by monks and children, green lush and paddy field, beautiful lake and divine view of the mountain peak.
Our day starts early at 4 a.m. We perform yoga after the ablution and, inhale deeply and take long walks, speak to nature. I inhale the fresh air deeply and taking it inside the nostril and lungs, cut off from city life where no face recognizes me here. It’s a new birth where I reincarnate myself seeking peace in the unknown force of divinity.
Slowly, I am learning the art of re-birth and breathing life into my existence where money and the material world hold no significance. I am alive after years, seeking joy in the small things that makes the heart and soul content. My soul is showing sign of purity like the simple white Kurta and dhoti I am wearing and walking barefoot. It’s not designer clothes costing lakhs but a simple attire someone got for cheap 400 bucks at the road stall market.
Grateful I am to how life has changed for me at 360 degrees to chuck off attachment to worldly pleasures. I smile at the eccentricity of life offered by showbiz and I am not made for it anymore. I abused my position, took toxic substances, sleeping with women and was a pawn in the hands of the deceased souls. Regret knows no place in my life. It’s a feeling that I cannot describe in letting go of emotions and physicality. The soul is being cleansed of impurity. I am conscious of my state, every step or action I make, every move be it my fingers and the smile to attract positive energy and light. I don’t feel that I lack anything. My Kurta pocket is empty and I carry only a white handkerchief.
There was a time when I stopped living and was a dead corpse surviving in the city. But, today I am a different person. I don’t yearn for desire, be it sex, money, fame or power. I am learning to live in the moment, be an alert soul, fresh every morning and am a zinda dil. Aaj pehli baar ehsaas hua ke mein zinda hoon (For the first time I feel alive).
You must be wondering what about the pen drive. I burned it after viewing my past life how I was a party to dopes, sex orgy with multiple partners and arms trafficking till I found the real deal. I am not the real Akhil Kumar.
The pen drive opened a pot of gold: Akhil Kumar died in a police encounter during the raid. I was in the mental hospital after losing my memory and suffered heart damage. The DSP spotted me one day as Akhil Kumar look alike and I became him. I live with the harvested brain and heart of the superstar.
I am not Akhil Kumar yet I am him. His thoughts and memory are wired into my brain. I recall most of the things he has done in life. Who I am?
Yet! Akhil Kumar is Zinda. I am Zinda. Love has triumphed above everything. I am lucky to have Maya by my side. She stays in the ashram and our love is beyond physical. See! She walks slowly, draped in her orange sari and exudes the most beautiful smile ever. Maya is no longer an illusion but an angel in my life. Our love is timeless and beyond attachment.
The train ambles at CST in Mumbai. It’s packed with passengers and a young man gets out of the crowded railway station with a huge backpack, eyes twinkling with dreams of making it big in Mumbai as a star. The coolies, dressed in red uniforms are throwing themselves at passengers and crowd running to catch their trains. Outside, black-and-yellow cabs are waiting, street hawkers selling chana, cheap wrist watches, and fake brands. The city is moving at fast pace, vehicles honking furiously and BEST buses breaking into the traffic.
The young man plods his step and sweats heavily, hailing the cab swerving dangerously. He looks at the city and tells himself, ‘One day I will own the place.’ If you ever know what happens to him, send me a sign. Maya is calling for me by smiling shyly. Time for me to go.