Part – II

Ire of gods and sorrow of souls

Section 3: Sorrowful souls

Moan under a lid

Irresolvable tragedy 

Akhenaton had hired a sculptor for the bust of his queen in limestone. The sculptor’s infatuation of the beautiful lady sitting before him for days was far more powerful than the reciprocal attraction of Pharaoh towards his queen. Force in the attraction of love of the sculptor severed the link of love between the two with already saturated sex. There was an equal tragedy on feminine front as well in the home of Pharaoh. Queen’s first daughter was Swati’s base medium and toughest enemy of Nefertiti. She dragged father Pharaoh towards herself in conjugal attraction, and he made his mind to marry her. Nefertiti lost to the medium of Swati due to her older age and saturated sex of her psyche. It was a shameful situation for the queen either way. Neither could Nefertiti stop her sculptor from loving her, nor could the queen check her daughter from usurping her mother’s husband. Swati was poised to finish the queen sobbing.  

 Nefertiti died in disgrace and resulting depression, crying ‘I love you’; but, her husband Akhenaton couldn’t feel it. Nefertiti was unable to convey her feeling to her husband due to masking force of love from her sculptor and infatuating love of her daughter towards Akhenaton. She was damned due to aging to become star Venus getting lost in the glare of morning sun.

Moan of the most beautiful queen on earth lay frozen at the bottom of little earthen pot of Sunglow, I felt. But my helplessness in the present life was no less than Akhenaton’s in past.

Nefertiti as also Akhenaton had run into a tragedy of energy of age, I realized on my bed in the longest night of 2007. The two immoral villains sank them in sorrow due to nobility and sexual debility of the royal pair.  But situation was no different today. I was reaching sixty-nine and Sunglow forty-eight; the sculptor was in mid-fifties, and the first daughter of Nefertiti was below forty in her present body. We were in different countries under the full moon of the longest night. Space was no problem for me in the transaction of ann in prajna between the enemy pairs of past; but, we made a ten years older pair falling in receding zones of psychic energy  and manojav. I could do nothing under such circumstances to punish our past adversaries. Our villains were more powerful than the energy of prajna at my command for punishing them.

Prajna is like a bullfight – a matador with red scarf inviting a bull to charge. I knew my position in the bullfight in advance – a fallen matador only wishing to repulse the charging bull. Availability of energy held the key; and, it was not with us. My father had died in Tantra, I remembered. If I undertake massive transfer of energy as the case required, I was going to be killed like him. A  Hindi phrase advises not do the mistake of ‘inviting a bull only to kill.’

Such was my position in the night of December 22 ‘07. Akhenatan of today knew helplessly that he could do nothing against the tormenters of past to assuage the psyche of his grieving wife in the desert of Egypt, living in hope of succor from suffering for 3300 years. Energy of age was in favor of the adversaries and an open earthen pot of Sunglow in moonlight was no better than closed in the showcase of drawing room.

Akhenatan was a fallen warrior in his present life too before the culprits of Nefertiti, unable to do anything against them for the solace of his past queen as she had demanded through the message of earthen pot. Only a sleep in early morning of December 23 wiped out my sorrow of helplessness.