This Sunday evening, rain had been falling gently for some time. The sky outside my window was grey, the air was cooler than usual, and everything around seemed a little slower. I was sitting quietly with a cup of tea in my hand. There was no particular work waiting for me, and perhaps that was why my mind was free to wander.
Rain has a strange way of bringing old memories back. Some memories do not arrive because they are called. They simply come, sit beside us for a while, and take us somewhere we had almost forgotten.
While looking outside, I suddenly remembered an evening from a couple of years ago in Nainital. I could see the lake again in my mind, surrounded by the hills, with boats moving slowly over the water. I remembered sitting on a bench near the lake, doing almost nothing. There was no hurry to reach anywhere. People were walking around, families were talking, children were excited about boating, and occasionally a boatman would call someone towards his boat. I was simply sitting there and watching.
Perhaps many people have sat on those same benches and looked at the same lake. There was nothing unusual about that evening. Yet sometimes an ordinary scene remains somewhere deep inside and returns years later with a meaning that was not visible at that time.
My eyes were following the boats.
Some were near the shore, while others had moved towards the middle of the lake. A boat would pass slowly, making small waves behind it. The water would move, settle, and then move again when another boat crossed. Depending upon the light and the position of the boat, its shadow could also be seen. At places the shadow appeared small and close to the boat, while at another angle it seemed wider and darker. Then there was the reflection in the water. The boat was above the water, but another boat seemed to live beneath it.
Of course, I knew that the second boat was only a reflection. Still, it looked real enough to attract the eyes.
When the water was calm, the reflection was almost complete. The shape of the boat, the people sitting in it, their colours, and sometimes even small details could be seen. Then a little movement came into the water, and everything changed. The straight lines became curved. Faces stretched and disappeared. One part of the boat seemed to move away from another part. Within seconds, the beautiful reflection became broken into hundreds of moving pieces.
But the real boat had not changed.
It continued moving exactly as before.
Perhaps that was what remained somewhere within me.
Sitting with my tea on this rainy Sunday evening, that scene returned with a different meaning. I began thinking about how often something similar happens in life. There is an actual event, an actual person, an actual relationship, an actual success, an actual failure. That is perhaps the real boat. But around that reality, many other forms slowly appear. There is its shadow. There is its reflection. There is sometimes even the reflection of its shadow. After some time, it becomes difficult to know which one has occupied the larger place in the mind.
A small thing can sometimes create a very large shadow.
The object itself may be small, but when the light falls from a particular angle, its shadow can spread over a surprisingly large area. The object has not become bigger. Only its shadow has. I have seen the same thing happening within life. A small disappointment sometimes remains in the mind for years. One unpleasant sentence spoken by someone can become larger than hundreds of kind sentences spoken before it. A minor mistake can continue appearing before the eyes long after everyone else has forgotten it.
At other times, something very large leaves only a small shadow.
There are difficulties that once seemed impossible to cross, but years later they occupy only a few lines in memory. There were worries that kept the mind awake at night, yet today it is difficult even to remember why they appeared so frightening. The event remained part of life, but its shadow gradually became smaller as the light changed.
Perhaps time changes the position of the light.
The same incident looks different at twenty, different at forty, and very different after sixty. Nothing can change what actually happened, but its meaning can certainly change. Sometimes age makes an old hurt softer. Sometimes experience gives a new explanation to something that once appeared unfair. Sometimes what looked like a failure becomes the beginning of another road. Sometimes what appeared like a great achievement slowly loses its importance.
Then there is reflection.
A reflection depends not only on the real object but also on the surface receiving it. Calm water shows one image. Disturbed water shows another. Muddy water may hardly show anything clearly. Perhaps the mind behaves in much the same way. When the mind is disturbed, even a simple event can appear twisted. Anger changes its shape. Fear enlarges it. Expectations colour it. Ego adds something that may never have been there.
When the mind becomes quiet, the same event can often be seen differently.
This does not mean that every hurt was imaginary or every mistake was harmless. Reality remains reality. A boat is still a boat. But the image seen in the water is influenced by the condition of the water. Perhaps many judgments made in life are not judgments about reality alone. They are judgments about reflections seen through the state of the mind at that particular moment.
Another thought came to me.
There were many boats on Nainital Lake that evening. From my bench, each appeared in one particular way. Someone sitting on the opposite side of the lake would have seen the same boats differently. Someone looking down from a hotel on the hill would have seen an entirely different picture. A person sitting inside the boat would hardly see the boat at all. He would see the water, the shore, the hills and perhaps people sitting where I was sitting.
The boat remained the same, but every position created a different truth of seeing.
Life also seems full of such positions. Within a family, the same event may be remembered differently by different people. In a friendship, one person may remember the closeness while another remembers the disagreement. In professional life, one decision may appear necessary from one side and unfair from another. Many times both memories may be sincere. They are simply being viewed from different benches around the same lake.
Perhaps this is why complete judgment about another life is so difficult.
Even complete judgment about one’s own life may not be easy.
Memories themselves are reflections. They do not always return exactly as events happened. Some details become brighter, some fade away, and some are probably added slowly without anyone noticing. With every passing year, the surface on which those old scenes are reflected also changes.
Looking back, I realise that I too have spent time worrying about shadows. At times I may have taken a reflection too seriously. Perhaps I have allowed certain small events to grow much larger than their real size, while taking some truly valuable moments almost for granted. This happens quietly. Life continues moving, but the mind remains busy measuring shadows.
The boat, meanwhile, continues its journey.
That evening in Nainital, no boat remained permanently in front of my bench. One came, stayed within my sight for some time, and moved ahead. Another followed. The reflection came with it and disappeared with it. The shadow moved as the light moved. The lake accepted all of them without holding anything back.
Today, sitting with my cup of tea while rain falls outside, I feel that perhaps life also asks for something similar.
Events will come and pass. Some will bring happiness, some pain, some pride, and some regret. They will cast shadows of different sizes. They will appear differently when reflected through memory, through other people, and through changing years. None of these needs to be denied, but perhaps none should be mistaken completely for the real thing either.
The real life may be much simpler than the many images built around it.
Perhaps peace begins when reality, shadow and reflection are allowed to remain what they are. A shadow can be enormous, but it is still only a shadow. A reflection can be beautiful or broken, but it is still only a reflection. The water may tremble for some time, but when it becomes quiet, the image becomes clearer again.
And somewhere beneath all these changing appearances, the boat continues to move across the lake.