“Cosmos?” Cosmos’ teacher asked, frowning awkwardly.
It was the first day of school and teachers conducted the standard-operating procedure of calling out students’ names to remember them – or atleast try for some. Seven-year-old Cosmos looks up from his desk amid a backdrop of his classmates giggling behind him.
“Why did your parents name you Cosmos?”
“Who am I but the Cosmos in a raindrop balancing upon the Cosmic leaf,” Cosmos replied as a matter of factly. His eyes unblinking, gleaming with innocence. His face calm, composed.
The teacher observed the boy for a few mini seconds, her brain realigns itself from the constant hay-wiring due to the mishandling of its system. There was a peculiar but beautiful sense of profound calm in the manner the boy spoke.
The class remained still and silent. A strange profound sense of peace engulfed the air for a few significant seconds, giving the impression as though a person who was afraid of drowning finally found the floating balance with the water.
“Have trust in the spontaneous bursting flow of your own reflection,” the teacher found herself thinking.
The teacher snapped out and immediately descended back to silly struggling akin to a person trying hard to swim in a knee length pool.
“The drop in frequency,” Cosmos would later describe this particular event, when his students ask as he sits casually in a circle with them.
“You have to trust the gentle flow in the river of life. That’s the only way to stay afloat,” He would constantly say.
“What if I drown?” One student asks.
“There is no drowning because there is no swimming,” He would say confidently, with a cheeky slight smile playing on his lips.
One student asks, “What is duality?”
Casually he opens his arms wide and says point blank, “Oneness. Oneness with everything,”
“Thank you Cosmos, you may sit down now,” the teacher said as Cosmos sat on his chair.
The teacher continued experiencing the day by calling out other students’ names, however, the boy was forever etched in her head.
His words struck out strong, like a hammer assisting in breaking the shackles of duality.
And yet it appeared gentle, as though a dog with a leash is set free in a green grassy field.
She preferred the latter.
Gentle wind blew from the open windows of the warm sunny day giving the impression as though it was dancing, reacting to the sudden profound rise of thought.
The teacher sees Cosmos after many years, as he kneels before her in the quiet old folk home.
Tear starts trickling from her eyes as her lips quiver, bawling like a little girl’s.
Cosmos smiles gently. He caresses her white hair and kisses her forehead.
To weak to hug she makes a mental note of hugging him, and as though he had heard her, Cosmos hugged his teacher tight.
They sat silent in a peaceful, calming hug.
“I always wanted this,” the teacher said.
“I know,” Cosmos says.
“You know,” she begins softly, fighting her tears, “when I was young, I always thought I was a Gopika. And as I grew I started seeking Krsna in other men. It’s funny though, I found him in my own student,” the teacher hugged Cosmos tighter.
Cosmos smiled gently.
“I just want to die in your arms, my boy,” the old woman sighs.
There was silence and then Cosmos broke it, “Then go,”
She smiled, gave a weak peck to Cosmos’ cheek and sighs with relief.