The Allegorical Expedition: A Quest for Truth

By P Satyadeep

Satyajit, a successful movie director, has accomplished all that there is to achievefame, success, and wealthyet he harbors a sense of discontentment within.

While the audience cheers for his brand of cinema and the industry fills its coffers by amassing collections from his films, he, personally, is dejected at the prospect of making yet another of those ostentatious, melodramatic romantic family dramas.

His inability to find a balance in his relationships and his core need to live up to his potential makes him search for answers and leads him to a realization that his anguish is a result of the projection of his frustration on those who care about him.

When he lays his hands on a script that has the potential to fulfill his hearts desire, he grabs the opportunity with both hands and sets out on a trip to research and unearth more details.

During the course of this road trip, he meets different people who not only provide him the necessary answers that would turn his vision into a magnum opus but also provide a deep understanding of the eternal principles of life and, most importantly, the unchanging and universal truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Aug 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482884173

P Satyadeep

P Satyadeep is an HR professional. He is curious and explorative and believes strongly that life is too short to confine oneself to the boundaries set by a conditioned mind. He believes in the possibility of expanding one’s limits by continually learning and constantly experimenting and striving to succeed.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Prologue – The quest for truth

The sun seemed in a hurry to conceal itself behind the massive peaks in the distance. Its brilliance created a hue of beautiful colors in the vast open sky, a visual treat to the eyes. The reflection of the colorful sky in the pristine clear water of the lake was quite enchanting, to say the least. The only sound that disturbed his thoughts was that of the ripples in the lake.

He stood there in silence admiring the fascinating view of the bright orange ball of fire nestling away behind the snow-clad peaks in all its radiance. The time he had spent on the road had given him a certain tan; he had shoulder-length hair neatly tucked away under the thick cap that he wore for protection against the cold. It struck him that he was the only person in the world who was witnessing this entrancing sight. There was not a soul anywhere near.

The last party of motorcycle riders had passed by the previous week. They had stopped by his makeshift camp set up on the banks of the beautiful glacial lake, overlooking the mighty Himalayan peaks in the horizon. They had spent some time discussing with him his plans and enquiring if he would like to join their group on the trip back. They were worried that the roads would start clogging with snow, and landslides blocking the roads were a common feature during the winters. They wished to cover the distance back as quickly as possible and were surprised about his decision to stay. A few murmured that probably he had a death wish. Others warned him that the chill of the night at that altitude would freeze him to death. In the end, he had stood there undeterred waving them goodbye as they started their journey. His determination to fulfill the purpose for which he had come here was unwavering. They were kind enough to leave him with some supplies.

The past few days he had come to realize that they had not been joking, the winter had started setting in as warned. The lake was beginning to freeze and the last couple of nights had in fact been quite chilly. The protection offered by the sleeping bag was questioned by the ferocity of the weather conditions.

He was sure he was in the right place, or maybe he wasn’t. He smiled at his foolishness. His surety did not stem from any factual evidence; rather it boiled down from his lack of choice. He had all along known that there was no plan B. The entire trip was based on a wild hunch that ‘The Wandering Monk’ had been seen in these parts, and there was no escaping the fact that he had taken up this journey betting his life on that hunch.

Since his arrival a couple of weeks back, he had explored the entire area spanning all around the lake, the nearby mountains and hills, but there was no sign of any other living soul other than himself. The deadline of a week he had set for starting his return had ended; he had even exhausted his supplies. He knew he had to start his journey back. Eventually, this trip could prove to be a big failure, but if he continued his wait any further, it could lead to a disaster.

As the sun hid behind the peaks, he turned his attention back to his unyielding attempts to kick-start his motorcycle; he had been at it for two full days. He repeatedly cursed himself for not having heeded the advice of that group leader. Alas, there he was all alone kicking his heart out trying to get the bike to start. He had spent the entire morning overhauling the bike. The fuel flow seemed ok; he had removed and cleaned the carburetor, and the spark plug. The clutch wire and the throttle cable seemed fine, yet the damn thing would not start.

The food and water supplies were over. The night lamps could last another night, and the wood he had collected would be sufficient to keep him warm for another couple of nights. What would he do after that, how would he survive, he had no clue. It had not necessitated him to kill to stay alive yet, but would he hesitate if the need arose he wondered. He only had a cutting knife for his protection against the wild, and the sole use he was aware of was to cut fruits and vegetables. His survival beyond another couple of days seemed a difficult proposition at that point.

There was the option of leaving the motorcycle and continuing his journey on foot; the nearest base camp was a days’ walk away. If he started his descent early in the morning, he could probably make it alive to the camp by nightfall.

He sat on the ground tired, trying to get his breath. Leaning on the bike, he stretched his legs and faced the lake. The sun had set, yet it had brightened the sky with stunning colors. The bonfire that he had lit some time back was burning bright.

A cup of hot tea would do no harm he concluded. He walked into the tent and came out with the kettle in his hand. He set up the pot on the bonfire and sat down again, with his back resting on the bike and his legs outstretched. He just wanted to sit there, enjoy the view, and immerse himself in that magnificent beauty. For a moment, he forgot everything about his precarious life-threatening situation. He felt one with nature.

As the night set in, the fire started to fade away because of the increase in the density of the snow. The hissing sound of the fire in its weak attempt to stay alive, and the cold biting away into his body woke him up; he had not realized when he had dozed off, sitting there outside the tent. He looked around, but to his dismay other than the small fire and the flakes of snow falling on it, nothing else was visible. He walked up to the pile of wood next to his tent added some of it to the fire, to keep it burning for the rest of the night and keep wild animals away. He was appreciative of the kind Samaritan, who had suggested that he should protect his tent by digging a trench all around it and fill it with barbed wires and firewood. Nevertheless, the snowfall was spoiling his fortification; the only protection that he could hope for anymore was the burning fire.

As he got into the comfort of his sleeping bag, the lack of which he realized some time later when the temperatures dropped drastically. He remembered his friend Pranay’s words, End each day with gratitude for having lived, hope to wake up next day and be purposeful, it seemed appropriate to him now than ever.

Without the bike he was a sitting duck – death would be slow yet inevitable. Without food, fire for warmth and water to drink, he did not know how long he could last. There were only two options left for him, let go and wait for death or hope for a miracle.

The cold was too much to bear and kept him awake. As he lay there inside his tent, he wondered, how long he would manage to survive given his current situation.

At the start of this incredible journey, he had only one rule, to let life surprise him, rather than him controlling it, and outpacing it by planning the next move, and get worried if things did not turn out as expected.

It had been a memorable, exciting and enjoyable journey so far. A roller coaster ride filled with a series of unforeseen surprises and unimagined marvels. With Shantilatha’s help, he had learnt the art of embracing uncertainty. Life surprised him with unexpected events or situations, and he welcomed it. Yet, this current state of affairs was getting a little out of hand.

As the night progressed; the temperatures dropped further, and all he could do was to hold on to the sleeping bag tight around his chest. The cold was affecting his body he could no longer feel his fingers nor could he feel his toes, they had got numb owing to the cold.

He realized that he was experiencing a different feeling, something he had not felt for a long time. It brought back memories of pain, suffering, and disappointment; emotions he had willfully chosen to suppress. ‘Fear’ had finally managed to catch up with him and consume him from within.

He was aware that this fear inside him, the fear of death, was weakening him. The eerie sound of wild animals lurking somewhere in the dark; waiting for the opportune moment to pounce on its prey, the piercing cold of the mountains, unforgiving to those who did not respect its might and ferocity. The memories of time spent with loved ones and the fleeting hope to see them again, and tell them how much they meant to him. These doubts caused a lot of distress. Tears welled up in his eyes as he wondered if he would let go or fight for survival in case the inevitable choice presented itself.

His mind was barraged with thoughts about death and afterlife. It played back his entire life right from his childhood, until that fateful day. All sorts of faces and memories of times spent with people he cared for flashed in front of his eyes.

He remembered Maaya, her beautiful eyes, her long thick hair caressing her glowing face. Her last words to him, beckoning him to stay with her kept coming back and haunted him. He wondered if news about his death would even reach her. Would his father realize; would anybody for that matter be able to find his body, or was he destined to lay buried at this altitude?

It was snowing vigorously, the water in his flask had already frozen; there was no drinking water anymore. The fire that kept him warm was dying; it had consumed the pile of wood he had collected. He could attempt to venture out and pile up some wood, but it was still dark, and undertaking such an endeavor at that time did not seem like a good idea, he had to wait for sunrise.

For now, it was pertinent that he keep the fire burning, he looked around and could not find anything that he could use. There was only his guitar, which had lost a couple of strings during the journey. He feared the thought of doing that which he had to do. It was precious to him; it was a gift from Maaya and had been his sole companion during the journey. He let out a loud cry of despair and frustration. The pain of separation from within and the physical pain both were at an unimaginable level.

He extended his hand, yet he could not reach it from his sleeping bag. He crawled out a little and extended a bit more, pulled it close to him, and with tears in his eyes, and a painful cry, he threw it in the direction of the fire. Within few minutes, the fire came back to life as it satiated its hunger and engulfed his precious. The pain was too much to bear.

CHAPTER 2

A desirable conflict

Satya…, come to the living room, he is waiting for you.

Young Satya struggled to open his eyes, the tube light in his room shone brighter than the afternoon sun. His mother stood over him and nudged him to get up. It was a small 10' X 10' room in a flat; his bed was positioned strategically under the fan. Though there was a study table in one corner, he preferred to study on the bed. Textbooks, paper, and other stationery lay strewn all around his table. Pictures of cricketers and other sportsmen adorned the walls of his den. His wardrobe was a mess; clothes stuffed in it as if someone had crumpled and pushed them in. A few of those lay in a bundle on the chair adjacent to the table.

"Mom… ugh… What time is it? Is it dawn already?

No beta, it’s well after midnight, it’s your Dad! He is not able to sleep!

Satya got up with a flash; he was wide-awake, and the concern for his father’s health was quite evident in his eyes as he asked, Dad! Why what happened? Is everything Ok?

I do not know; he wishes to speak to you about something that’s bothering him, why don’t you come to the living area. His mother instructed

Mom, you got me scared and worried, it’s late in the night, and can we not do this in the morning? Satya asked.

Tell it to him yourself. Come now, get up and come down to the living area, his mother directed.

He dragged himself out of the bed, and slowly walked into the living room, he wondered what his father wanted to talk to him at such an odd hour, why could not he wait until the morning?

His father sat at the dining table, there was something in his hand, and he stared at it with a look of dismay and disgust, with his other hand on his forehead.

Satya immediately realized that it was his progress report, the one he had received that day. He had shown it to his mother in the evening and had had a huge argument with her regarding the marks he had scored.

He looked at his mother, angry and upset. Why did she have to show it to him? He had tried to explain her, but she would not understand, and now she had even shown it to his father.

"What is this?’ his father shouted, as soon as Satya approached the table.

Dad, I was waiting to explain, but you probably came home late, and I happened to doze off, Satya responded.

Ok! Fine, it seems both of us are quite awake right now. Why don’t you explain this to me? Satya’s father demanded as he shoved the progress report on Satya’s face?

Dad; I agree, it looks bad, but I have it under control, there’s nothing to worry, Satya said as he tried to take control of the situation.

Do you have any idea, what you are talking? his father demanded

Dad, come on, why are you getting mad? It is not as if I have failed this term, Satya responded with a frown on his forehead.

Do you hear him? his father addressed his mother, he is defending this, he expects me to be patient and wait for him to fail a term, he sounded exasperated.

Dad, why are you yelling in the middle of the night, calm down a bit, else you will spoil your health, Satya tried to reason with his father.

His father, on the other hand, was in no mood to calm down, Yeah right, the scholarship never meant anything to you, it was my dream. All you had to do was maintain a steady percentage that’s all, I don’t see why that was so difficult, what are these distractions that have come up lately, he demanded.

Satya realized that his arguments would only irritate him further and thus decided to remain silent and listen to him. His father was now addressing his mom, "How am I supposed to react? He says I should be calm; maybe sleep it off; something that he was doing, until you went and woke him up. He has tasted failure for the first time in his life, and he does not even feel it.

Satya looked at his father with a look of surprise and offered to explain, What are you talking about, Dad, I have not failed – I just secured a second division score.

Yeah right, has your mother not told you that to sit for the scholarship exam, you need to meet the minimum requirement in all terms? Are you even aware of it or not? His father asked.

Yeah I am aware of it; but what’s the problem. The world is not going to stop if I do not get a scholarship. I am sure there are scores of other students who have succeeded without a scholarship, the matter was getting out of control; Satya strongly felt that his father was being unreasonable.

His father was stunned by whatever he heard; there was a moment of silence in the room. His father addressed him after a couple of minutes, and this time, he spoke in a measured tone and said, You know what son! It is good that we are having this conversation right now; let me ask you two simple questions, you do not have to answer me right away with that attitude. Take the remainder of the night if you want, but get back to me with your responses before I leave for work tomorrow. If I am satisfied with your answers; I will continue to invest in your education; else you will have your whole life to do whatever it is that you want to do; and make a note of these questions, because you will have to find answers eventually.

• What do you fear?

• What is your Goal in life?

As I said, you do not have to answer me right away, think about it for the rest of the night but make sure that I have the answers before I leave, Come, Lakshmi, let’s go. So saying he stormed off from the living room.

Satya stood there stunned at his father’s announcement, Did he really mean it? Is he seriously going to stop funding my education, what am I going to do, and what were these questions, what do they have to do anything with me, these were a few of the innumerable number of concerns causing a throbbing pain in his head.

So, what happened next, did you find satisfactory answers to those questions?

The question transported Satyajit back in time; he was standing on the balcony of his penthouse overlooking the sea, with an empty can of beer in his hand and the young, beautiful and vibrant Kaamini giving him company.

Kaamini, a tall, good-looking woman, with beautiful caramel eyes and long thin legs was the supermodel launched by his production house ‘Prerana’ to star in their upcoming feature presentation.

She was scouted by Maaya to walk the ramp for her designer friend at the fashion week the previous year. She graduated in journalism and had a day job as a copy editor for a media magazine. When he had met her, he came to know her as a hardworking, self-reliant and highly ambitious woman. She is attractive and has an undying passion for success, the exact package you needed for your character in your upcoming movie. Maaya had described her, and here she was standing by his side and giving him company. He stared at her unsure whether he should say something or let it pass.

I suppose I did, else we would not be here would we? Speaking of which, I wonder, why is it that you are dressed like a princess and standing here in my penthouse? I don’t seem to remember the number of beers I have had tonight, nor do I remember the exact reason that brings you here at this unearthly hour, Satyajit asked, as he strolled towards his kitchen, to collect another can of beer from the refrigerator.

She giggled and responded in her sweet voice, Come on SJ you cannot be serious; we were at the party you hosted for the staff at Prerana, for your ‘best picture’ and ‘best director’ nomination. You had promised we would go to the ceremony together. Later, you suggested you would rather read me the script of my forthcoming movie than accompany me to the awards ceremony. During the drive back home, we talked about, your realization that you were born to make films and tell stories, and how your father had a significant role to play in pushing you to pursue your dreams and leverage your real potential.

Oh! The awards ceremony, such hypocritical narcissists, I do not know how some people manage to enjoy every bit of that travesty. To consistently sport that fake smile, year after year is definitely a pure skill.

I think it’s exciting; I mean all the lights, the tension, the glamor and the suspense; isn’t it nice to know that the entire industry appreciates your work and contribution. I am sure it would be an incredible feeling to walk on that red carpet and lay claim to the coveted prize that was exclusively crafted with your name written all over it, she seemed lost in her own dreams while he stood there sneering at her reaction.

She reminded him of his younger self when he had started his career as an assistant director after graduating from the prestigious Indian Institute of Cinema. She had that spark in her eyes, a glimmer of hope and excitement, and the impatience to step into the colorful world of cinema, to pour life into different characters and give wings to her dreams. Then why are you wasting your time here, should you not be attending the ceremony? he asked sarcastically.

That was the intention; but then, what good is a ceremony that does not give me the satisfaction of having you by my side, she exclaimed.

He looked at her standing by her side under the moonlit night. Her silky smooth hair falling across her shoulder, the dark mascara accentuated the lines of her eyes, her long slim neck buoyed her head high in confidence, while her soft, tender fingers held on to the glass of wine as if it was the elixir of life. He wondered if the wine got its color from her lips every time she took a sip. She most definitely was an epitome of profound beauty; a damsel exclusively sculpted for the heavens.

She looked at him staring at her and asked, What do you see?

He turned his head back into the night sky and exclaimed, I look at you, and I am reminded of a younger me; waiting for an opportunity to prove the world wrong and correct the wrong that the world had done to me.

He looked at her directly and continued, But now, after eight long years, if I have to look back and acknowledge the actual difference I have made, I have nothing to talk about.

Oh! Do not be so humble and modest. The last 8 years the industry has witnessed you rise from being a struggling newcomer to an acclaimed Director. Six of your movies have been blockbusters; I do hope that you win a third consecutive award for your latest offering. You are the envy of all other directors in the business. Producers queue up outside your office every day, and it is a lifelong dream of every aspiring actor to be part of your upcoming ventures. Yet you say you have nothing to boast about, she commented.

Is that why you are here? I should warn you, Maaya would not mind my absence; she is used to it. More often than not, she feels that my presence would only embarrass her. But she would definitely be upset about the fact that I have stolen you away from her entourage, he remarked.

I want to be with you, and I believe it is my right to choose how, where and with whom I wish to spend my time. I am aware that with you by my side, holding my hand, all the glitter and glamor of this industry will be mine one day; till then it does not make any difference whether I attend these ceremonies or not.

She just