Thought for a thought.

Since the time when i felt i can think, I realized a major fact that every thing is worth giving a thought. From a speck of graphite to a load of iron, everything was to be thought upon to convert it to a meaningful matter, be it a literary masterpiece or a jumbo jet. But the realization wasn't like how everyone learns to walk or how everyone learns to write. It was something no one has ever spoken about to me and no book talks about it. An Unheard feeling, an inexpressible emotion covered me when it occurred to me for first time. I was deep into my thoughts, of which i don't have the slightest clue about. It was like a sequence of thoughts rolling out, one giving path to other and then another and then the next. And suddenly out of the mist of these thoughts a clear profile emerged. a Question, indeed very simple question, 'What am i thinking?'. Like a rescuer, that one question wiped off all other thoughts and brought me to a momentary blackout. I realized that there indeed was a chain of thoughts, there was a random chaos, there was no influence of me on my thoughts, all was so unnatural just prior to this moment. This very movement made me realize that we have a much deeper intellect then we would ever utilize.

My acquaintance with this question was a frightening revelation. It accompanied with itself a distant feeling of myself. I felt like i have a counterpart within myself, Someone who has been watching my thoughts, spotting my emotions and governed my actions. That simple yet so deep question unleashed the vast expanse within myself.I was left perplexed. With time the question began to appear frequently. Initially it brought a awkward feeling with itself but soon it became habitual. The momentary lapse of reason it accompanied, helped me reason my unconscious thoughts.

Then I stumbled across a book, 'Ka: stories of the mind and gods of India', an exquisite work by Roberto Calasso. Calasso, and the imaginative heart of his own book is in the austere hymns and narratives of the Aryans, the Rig-Veda and the Brahmanas. The stories of the mind and the world, of sovereignty are superbly narrated here. As the book goes, "There are no Aryan monuments or artifacts, only 'words and gods. They left nothing else.' The Aryans, 'more interested in grammar than in glory,' were 'masters of the goaded, greased, hard-brushed, well-honed word.' Their world revolved around contemplation of 'the simple fact of being conscious'". As i lay contemplating these lines i understood what the book said about aham and atman, the difference between me and I. That was the difference i was seeking, and here it was, revealing itself from the very history of my civilization. And till today, I am mystified when i think about what i think and indeed its a thought worth a thought.