In this version of the universe, unbeknown to most, children are always connected to the Universal Consciousness: the wellspring that embeds millions of years of intelligence and wisdom. Anyone in touch with the universal consciousness can see, do, and understand things far beyond normal intellectual capacity. All children, however, start their life tethered to this flow of knowledge. That is how they learn everything so rapidly in the first two years of life, and it tapers down as they grow up to be adults, forgetting how they mastered so many complex things in so little time.
If you pay close attention to the children however, you will see them coming from vastly different backgrounds—easily communicating with each other at this stage of life with the strangest words and gestures—as if they are connected via a private wi-fi network. Most adults cannot even dream about being connected to the universal consciousness: where everything feels like the cool breeze after a light rainfall, where every step one takes feels like the whole universe coming closer to herself, where answers appear even before questions are presented.
Rare few grown-ups, though, by fortune or misfortune, sometimes tap into this wellspring. Temporarily losing themselves, forgetting their identity, not knowing, like we said in an episode earlier, if he or she is alive, dead, dreaming or hallucinating. Suddenly the river flows through her, the time appears as a flat circle, she has no idea how she got here, maybe it is induced by illness, maybe by intense vipassana, or maybe it is just a cocktail of illness and sleeplessness.
Suddenly finding himself in this stage one day, on a late afternoon, a boy looked at his three-year-old niece, and saw her smiling brighter than ever before. He could see and feel the purity and light radiating from her presence. Her smile had a hint of “I see you” vibe to it, he felt. She smiled and pointed towards the boy, and said, “Kajishima!”
The boy had no idea what this word meant. “Kajishima! Kajishima!” She repeated and pointed towards the boy. This must mean something! He thought. He frantically googled in this half awake and half-asleep state, only to find in an obscure page online, that “Kajishima” means “Divine”. What did the niece mean then? Did she see something in the boy for a moment? Will she ever remember this after growing up? Can anyone truly know the answer?
Or maybe it was just a word the child put together by watching anime clips on YouTube. And the boy’s overactive imagination was doing the rest. We will never know. Maybe some stories are better left unfinished.
Dhaka
September 2021
If you pay close attention to the children however, you will see them coming from vastly different backgrounds—easily communicating with each other at this stage of life with the strangest words and gestures—as if they are connected via a private wi-fi network. Most adults cannot even dream about being connected to the universal consciousness: where everything feels like the cool breeze after a light rainfall, where every step one takes feels like the whole universe coming closer to herself, where answers appear even before questions are presented.
Rare few grown-ups, though, by fortune or misfortune, sometimes tap into this wellspring. Temporarily losing themselves, forgetting their identity, not knowing, like we said in an episode earlier, if he or she is alive, dead, dreaming or hallucinating. Suddenly the river flows through her, the time appears as a flat circle, she has no idea how she got here, maybe it is induced by illness, maybe by intense vipassana, or maybe it is just a cocktail of illness and sleeplessness.
Suddenly finding himself in this stage one day, on a late afternoon, a boy looked at his three-year-old niece, and saw her smiling brighter than ever before. He could see and feel the purity and light radiating from her presence. Her smile had a hint of “I see you” vibe to it, he felt. She smiled and pointed towards the boy, and said, “Kajishima!”
The boy had no idea what this word meant. “Kajishima! Kajishima!” She repeated and pointed towards the boy. This must mean something! He thought. He frantically googled in this half awake and half-asleep state, only to find in an obscure page online, that “Kajishima” means “Divine”. What did the niece mean then? Did she see something in the boy for a moment? Will she ever remember this after growing up? Can anyone truly know the answer?
Or maybe it was just a word the child put together by watching anime clips on YouTube. And the boy’s overactive imagination was doing the rest. We will never know. Maybe some stories are better left unfinished.
Dhaka
September 2021
