मी, जॉर्ज ऑर्वेल आणि टी. एस. एलियट एका मोठ्या खाटेवर एकमेकांशेजारी पहुडलो होतो. जाड रजईतसुद्धा थंडी वाजत होती.  ही खाट नेमकी कुठे असावी? वर खुलं आकाश होतं, भवती अंधार. वाळवंटात होतो आम्ही बहुधा. इतरांना विचारण्याची, स्वतः उठून जाणून घेण्याची इच्छा होत नव्हती. माझ्या पाठीमागं ऑर्वेल आणि एलियट एकमेकांकडे तोंड करून बोलत होते. खाटेच्या टोकाला पाय छतीशी मुडपून, शाल लपेटून बसलेल्या आमच्या तत्त्वज्ञानाच्या प्राध्यापकांशी मी गप्पा मारत होतो. सारे धीम्या आवाजात बोलत होतो.   काहीवेळाने मागून येणारा आवाज बंद झाला. दोघे झोपी गेले असावेत. बऱ्याच वेळाने ऑर्वेल म्हणाले, "जरा इकडे बघ." मी मागे वळून पाहिलं. ऑर्वेल एलियटकडे एकटक पाहत होते. त्यांनी माझा हात हातात घेऊन एलियटच्या मनगटाला लावला - नाडी बंद पडली होती.   मग मी व ऑर्वेल शांत झोपी गेलो. डोळे मिटण्यापूर्वी मी खाटेच्या टोकाकडे नजर टाकली - गुढघ्यांवर हनुवटी टेकवून आमचे प्राध्यापक विचारांत पार गढले होते.

You lose essence when you try to make sense - the essence which permeates through the poem, the painting, the novel, the film. It shall reveal itself to you in its own way, it its own time - all you ought to do is to be - be aware, be naked, be actively receptive.    Let the enchantment work, try not to try. Don't stuff yourself full when it is served. Leave some room for silence and surprises. You have only to prepare the soil. The poem, the art, the phenomenon, the work is the seed. You must wait, and prepare the ground - recognize the alive-ness of all things. The work is the seed and Meaning is in the meeting.  - Mukta 'Asraar'

O life, you honour me. Why so? Are you sure I am worthy?  - Not a word. Only a smile.  I don’t understand.   She honours me twice: by stepping into my life and inviting me into hers. I look around. There’s music in the kitchen and I can smell mushrooms first thing.   There’s no clutter in the bath. The wiring sticks out of chipped paint. The basin is clear, the ceramic isn’t. Latches are rusty but don’t creak. Half of the toilet floor is garnished with coin-sized dry leaves. Amusing. There may be room for upkeep or enhancement but nothing seems to be demanding it. Nothing seems wanting. ...I don’t know what she thinks.    She asks my preference for ingredients in a salad. Please don’t ask me, O woman. Bless me. Continue to grace me. If you ask for my wish I might fuss about like any human fool, crushing the remnant of your voice that floats on the indistinct quiet.   The single window in the hall looks out on the balcony which seems to have ...