The Testament of Existence
One
day,
on the pale canvas of my body,
I painted
day on one side,
night on the other—
stood before it
and called out:
Dibyendu, are you home?
Yesterday,
I thought long and hard—
I’ll outrun my shadow.
But today,
I sit still,
exhausted,
my face drowned in sadness.
He came.
Called my name.
I rose, a bit proud,
and said—
Dibyendu, you?
Now, at this hour?
What’s so urgent,
so necessary?
In this house of life,
the same dream circles back,
word by word,
threaded into new sentences,
becomes a kind of context:
the struggle to stay alive
in a civilized shell,
driven by desire—
to live for every self within us.
But inside,
there’s just ash and silence.
And on this lonely road,
I keep dodging potholes
by myself.
Dibyendu, do you remember
what you said last week?
Everything I’ve done,
all these years—
you said it had no worth.
And yet, you kept breathing
the air of this Earth,
carrying your tiny ego
so far, alone.
Where are your companions now?
Your wife, your son, your kin?
Left behind—
a few scattered versions
of you?
Every day—
a shove.
I keep pushing you,
to wake you up—
morning, noon, dusk.
These twisted longings,
they hit harder than color,
they nest inside your heart,
locked in a cage.
But even cages break.
Even a body
can be left behind
by a self
that refuses to be captured.
Why fear, Dibyendu?
Step outside.
There’s a world
beyond your skin.
It gives you air.
It offers light,
peace,
something to believe in.
Here,
even mountains yearn
to rise higher—
here,
you can live
with your fears.
And maybe,
just maybe,
you’ll find something
at the end.
But binding yourself
to your own safety
is the hardest prison.
Dibyendu, are you still at home?
The light you painted
on your canvas—
he’s moved into shadow.
He never freed his being
from the shadow of want.
So there were no clear answers.
And yes—
you suffered.
Your mind
drifted far away,
leaving your body
to travel a different sky,
toward
the light of release.
Dibyendu—come out.
Let go of the body’s safety net.
Come here,
onto this path,
into the seamless space
of the universe.
There’s another Dibyendu
standing at the door,
offering freedom
from your desires.
He’ll walk with you
on the path of time,
toward
the infinite.
One day.
on the pale canvas of my body,
I painted
day on one side,
night on the other—
stood before it
and called out:
Dibyendu, are you home?
Yesterday,
I thought long and hard—
I’ll outrun my shadow.
But today,
I sit still,
exhausted,
my face drowned in sadness.
He came.
Called my name.
I rose, a bit proud,
and said—
Dibyendu, you?
Now, at this hour?
What’s so urgent,
so necessary?
In this house of life,
the same dream circles back,
word by word,
threaded into new sentences,
becomes a kind of context:
the struggle to stay alive
in a civilized shell,
driven by desire—
to live for every self within us.
But inside,
there’s just ash and silence.
And on this lonely road,
I keep dodging potholes
by myself.
Dibyendu, do you remember
what you said last week?
Everything I’ve done,
all these years—
you said it had no worth.
And yet, you kept breathing
the air of this Earth,
carrying your tiny ego
so far, alone.
Where are your companions now?
Your wife, your son, your kin?
Left behind—
a few scattered versions
of you?
Every day—
a shove.
I keep pushing you,
to wake you up—
morning, noon, dusk.
These twisted longings,
they hit harder than color,
they nest inside your heart,
locked in a cage.
But even cages break.
Even a body
can be left behind
by a self
that refuses to be captured.
Why fear, Dibyendu?
Step outside.
There’s a world
beyond your skin.
It gives you air.
It offers light,
peace,
something to believe in.
Here,
even mountains yearn
to rise higher—
here,
you can live
with your fears.
And maybe,
just maybe,
you’ll find something
at the end.
But binding yourself
to your own safety
is the hardest prison.
Dibyendu, are you still at home?
The light you painted
on your canvas—
he’s moved into shadow.
He never freed his being
from the shadow of want.
So there were no clear answers.
And yes—
you suffered.
Your mind
drifted far away,
leaving your body
to travel a different sky,
toward
the light of release.
Dibyendu—come out.
Let go of the body’s safety net.
Come here,
onto this path,
into the seamless space
of the universe.
There’s another Dibyendu
standing at the door,
offering freedom
from your desires.
He’ll walk with you
on the path of time,
toward
the infinite.
One day.
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