Feelings

How are you feeling right now?

In the early dawn, thoughts came like arrows — countless, sharp, and uninvited. Every two seconds, a new one struck, and each thought grew into emotion, each emotion into feeling, until my mind became a storm.

My eyes turned green, and Xandra’s gaze reflected back at me, fierce and unyielding. Then I remembered something was Xandra’s eyes black in colour when I visited her the first time. Her sister eyes was blue and her was green. Is why her eyes is reflected upon me. Warlord Raul is super evil. From the side, Warlord Raul stood, commanding me to convert. I answered no. Then I heard my father’s voice calling my name, and suddenly the voices disappeared into emptiness.

To steady myself, I forced kriyas and sadhanas without pause, my breath becoming the sword against the unseen. Yet in the stillness, a realization came: the manipulator was not Raul, nor Xandra, but my own father, whose mind — weakened by dementia — spilled restless thoughts into mine.

So I chose to act. Decisions, however small, became victories. With three bars of petrol, I went to the station and filled the tank — a sign that I would no longer delay. Then I went to my father.

I told him: “Your telepathy keeps me from sleep. Your relatives have severed ties, they live in another garden and want nothing of you. They are the cruelest of their kind. Let go of resentment, revenge, longing. Let them vanish like smoke. Even you once called them useless. Release them and be at peace.”

I told him, too, of my own stand: “When the voices called me to convert, I refused. I choose instead this incarnate path, this faith, until the day my body meets the pyre and my ashes are carried by the Ganges to return to the soil. That is my freedom, my moksha.”

And I left, carrying the medicine he needed, like a soldier returning from battle.

The day unfolded as a path of clearing burdens. I confronted the tenant’s unpaid electricity bill and resolved it. I faced the bank’s errors and corrected them with the teller’s help. I lifted the weight of the house tax as well. Each task was a fire burning away a knot inside me.

Later, I saw Xandra’s church open, as if to display the power of her faith. But I knew mine was stronger — not in pride, but in the quiet fire of conviction. Hers was a house of stone; mine was the fire that consumes and purifies.

So I walked, in vision, toward the pyre of fire where my body will one day be offered. To flames, to ash, to the Ganges, to the soil, to the beginning.

And after all this, peace came. Raul’s voice faded. Xandra’s green eyes softened. My father’s whispers grew quiet. What remained was silence — a silence not empty, but whole.

And the silence spoke:

Feelings are not curses. They ache because they are fire. But fire does not only destroy — it frees, it purifies, it transforms. Step through the ache, and fulfillment awaits.