-- *Mar*Sure — here’s a short story inspired by the ideas and imagery in YM Sarma’s *“Communication of Feeling.”* ------------------------------ *The Sage of the Breathing Forest*
In the high hills where clouds brushed the trees and silence spoke in colors, there lived an old sage named Anantha. He had long forgotten words. When people from the city came to meet him, they always began with questions. “What is enlightenment?” “How can we find peace?” “What is the purpose of life?” Anantha would smile, close his eyes, and breathe. At first, the visitors thought he was ignoring them. But then something strange would happen: a breeze would rise from the valley, cool and scented with wild jasmine. The air seemed to pulse softly, as though it had meaning. The visitors would fall silent. For a few moments, all thoughts stopped. They felt calm, seen, understood — but no words had been exchanged. One day, a young professor came from the city — a man with three degrees and a restless mind. He carried a notebook, a recorder, and the weight of his own intellect. “Master,” he said, “I’ve studied the mind for years. They say you can teach without speaking. Show me.” Anantha simply gestured for him to sit. The professor sighed impatiently. “Should I breathe? Meditate? What’s the method?” Anantha looked at him gently, then touched his own chest. He inhaled — a long, slow, living breath. The professor tried to imitate him. His breath came short and noisy. Again and again he tried, but his chest felt locked. Finally, in frustration, he slammed his notebook shut. “This is nonsense!” he shouted. “How can breath be language?” Anantha pointed toward the forest. There, two tribal children were playing by a stream. They sang to each other — not with words, but with sounds that rose and fell like wind in bamboo. Their laughter blended with the chirping of birds and the rhythm of flowing water. The professor watched, puzzled, then slowly understood: the children were *feeling* the same joy, though their sounds had no dictionary meaning. Anantha’s eyes met his, bright and deep as moonlight. “Before you speak,” the sage whispered finally, “you must learn to breathe with the world.” That night, the professor stayed under the forest canopy. He listened — to insects, to wind, to his own heartbeat. He felt the pulse of the air, the scent of earth, the rhythm of distant drums. For the first time in years, he wasn’t thinking. He was *feeling.* At dawn, he awoke lighter. His notebook lay unopened. He smiled and whispered to the trees, “I understand.” The forest seemed to exhale with him — one vast breath, shared between man and nature. ------------------------------ Would you like me to expand this story into a longer, more detailed *philosophical short story* (around 1500–2000 words), or turn it into a *parable-style fable* suitable for publication or teaching? -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Thatha_Patty" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/thatha_patty/CACDCHC%2BdNq%3DN3q2vvpBCOyzd%2B9axNAtAjhdtQ7%3DtUiMC0wj69g%40mail.gmail.com.
