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Dream Melody
Miles away from the temple, Anmol and the little boy finally reached a town.
From a distance, it looked unreal—
tall towers glowing softly, wide roads reflecting lights like mirrors, a river winding through the city like a silver ribbon. It felt like a dream city, beautiful and alive.
“Wow,” the boy whispered. “This looks perfect.”
They walked further and entered a temple near the river.
Suddenly, the air changed.
The beauty faded.
The river was dark and dirty. The smell was heavy. Ash floated on the water, mixed with wilted flowers. On the banks, funeral fires burned endlessly. Bodies were cremated one after another, and the remains—wood ash, flowers, and residue—were pushed into the river.
The boy stared silently for a moment.
Then he asked softly,
“Is this river really the same one we saw from far away?”
Anmol smiled quietly, without answering.
“Can you give me a hint?” the boy asked.
The boy suddenly pointed at the river and laughed,
“How foolish are you? Just look at it. What do you think about this?”
Anmol observed everything deeply—the flames, the ashes, the rituals, the silence of death flowing into water.
Then he spoke slowly,
“Yes… people are tasting the sweetness of their own karma.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
“Wow. I like that,” he said, looking straight into Anmol’s eyes. “But you’re speaking something very deep. I want to understand more.”
Anmol replied calmly,
“The truth is actually very simple. Instead of throwing flowers into the river, plant them somewhere. Instead of polluting water with ash, use it to balance soil pH. Ash can improve land fertility. The cost saved could help with free wood or social services.”
The boy laughed loudly.
“You’re a master blaster, boss! High-profit thinking with benefits for everyone!”
Anmol smiled faintly.
“But people do what they like. They call it religion. Blind rituals. Dhongi haru.”
He took out a small hand-rolled cigarette, lit it, and exhaled slowly.
Voices murmured nearby.
“Look at him—such a drug addict.”
“Half-minded man.”
“Coming to a Hindu temple and disrespecting Hindu ways, even with a child.”
Anmol ignored them completely. He was enjoying the moment—walking beside a strangely wise little boy.
The boy asked seriously,
“Doesn’t this ash carry negative energy? Like demons attacking the land?”
Anmol answered calmly,
“You believe in Shiva, right? This ash only adjusts pH levels. Nothing else. This land is Earth—it belongs to no one. All ownership is man-made illusion. No demon can attack land.”
The boy paused.
“So if we believe in gods… does that mean gods don’t exist?”
Anmol smiled slightly.
“Let’s find the answer,” he said, and started walking.
“You’re really half-minded,” the boy said, shaking his head.
After a while, a beautiful woman passed by. Her presence was gentle, natural.
Someone whispered,
“Wow… such a soft body, truly a divine beauty.”
Anmol asked the boy,
“Do you like her?”
“Yes,” the boy replied instantly.
“She’s naturally beautiful. No makeup—unlike my sister.”
Anmol smiled.
“Go, call her Bhauju and come back.”
The boy laughed.
“Hah! Silly man. Can’t you talk yourself?”
As she passed, Anmol turned slightly to look.
The boy scolded him,
“Don’t stare like a hungry devil. She deserves better than you.”
Anmol smiled.
“I hope so… but maybe not exactly.”
The boy crossed his arms.
“Hm. Where is the answer you promised?”
Anmol replied quietly,
“How can a half-minded person find answers?”
“Oh no,” the boy groaned. “I’m stuck in a loop.”
Anmol whispered softly,
“You know… she is gay. Still, one of the most beautiful souls.”
The boy looked confused.
“Gay? Who are they?”
Anmol asked gently,
“What is the gender of Shiva?”
The boy thought hard.
“Neither female nor male… some call Ardhanari… some call Ardhanarishvara.”
Anmol nodded.
“That is Shiva. You almost had it.”
The boy turned back, searching for the woman—but she was gone.
“Let it be,” Anmol said. “Look at the sun.”
The sky glowed warm red as the day slowly down.
“Beautiful,” the boy whispered.
“And look at the birds—they’re so happy flying freely.”
Anmol smiled.
“Yes. Beautiful.”
After a pause, he said,
“Now we should return home.”
The boy nodded.
“Okay. Can I call you my mate?”
“Why not?” Anmol replied.
“That moment will always be precious to me.”
The boy laughed, “Alright, mate. Let’s go search for Bhauju! Hahaha!”
Their laughter faded into the evening light— a dream, a melody, a vibe.