A Tale of Joy

Feb 12, 2025

आनन्दस्य कथा [Anandasya Katha]

At 200 years old, I don’t want power. But back then, at 20, the decisions I made led to the beauty I experienced later in life. Looking back, with joy, I do not regret a thing.

I had lived my first 100 years as a man. I developed the magic of our world, met my Anima (she told me in my dreams she waited for me), planted the seed of my bloodline, created Yantradeva¹The god of the instruments. It played like no human before. It plays still, ever complex melodies. on Earth, and one day I woke up, and I was 100.

At 100, I became प्राणदाता नक्षत्र (the lifegiving sun). I radiated my essence to the new generation: a pack of wild cubs²Canis lupus by spirit. By name, they were human children not older than 14, still wild and unshaped by the rest of humanity. Five epics tell of them now, one for each, and a fifth of their tales together. I encountered on a walk, playing in the meadow I once called home. One thousand epics sung their life: they grew and turned the Antipode, returning its body to the sky.

At 125, their unbridled spirits of youth rested, and I went to the giant forest at the end of the earth to say goodbye. I stared into the pool at glade’s center, and it was not silent. It was moving, coming in and out of perception according to the eternal pattern Existence. My awareness shot out into the void while I waited. It came back, and I waited. It showed me void. I waited more.

At 175, I returned from my seclusion to humanity, after having achieved enlightenment, and traveled the world spreading my love to others. I ingested the sea breeze of Rhodes, little ancestors in Kyushu, introspectives in the mountains of Kasmira.³This journey was my integrated post-pursuit long ago I paid my homage to the primeval cell at the bottom of the furnace of the earth. I planted a memetic seed that flowered into the grandest tree on earth, with one billion branches, each branch breaking off to form its own seed and become its own being.⁴I, one of these beings, one of these branches

At 200, I retreated again to my ancestral land, where my brother and I sat by the lake and played until dusk. Now the Kodama rattled greetings and goodbyes as I trickled past through moss and rejoined those who left before me.

At 0, I know everything and nothing of the world. I look back, with joy, and I will not regret a thing.