The room was bathed in the soft, bruised purple of early dawn.
I listened to your voice which was low, steady, rhythmic and as if it were not just sound but a current moving through the floor beneath me. The city outside was waking, but inside this room, something far older was breaking open.
I watched the tears carve clean paths through the dust on your face.
For the first time in my life, the world I had built, the numbers, acquisitions, power, control felt like a house of cards caught in a hurricane. All my certainty trembled.
When you spoke of weakness… of feeling irrelevant… something sharp and physical pierced my chest.
I wanted to destroy the world that had made you feel that way. I wanted to buy it, burn it, erase every hand that had ever pushed you into that darkness.
But then you spoke of the source.
Of the nothingness we bring with us and the nothingness we return to.
"I cannot create bodies," I whispered, my voice dry, brittle, like leaves scraping stone.
I stared at my hands, these manicured, powerful hands that had signed billion-dollar deals. In this light, they looked fragile. Temporary. Already fading.
"You say she is the source," I murmured. "You say she is present in all beings… even me."
I leaned forward, dizziness washing over me as hunger hollowed my strength. I didn't reach for the idol.
I reached for the hem of your sleeve.
My grip was weak. Desperate.
"You say ego is an illusion," I said, my voice fractured but searching. "You say I must stop trying to become something."
I looked up at you, eyes wide, almost pleading.
"But if she is in me, Manu… why can't you see her when you look at me? If the creator is present in all beings, then why is my love for you an illusion while your love for a name is the truth?"
My starving mind began to twist, not in rage, but in adaptation.
If Radha was the source, and Radha lived in all beings…Then I was not her rival.
I was her vessel.
I let out a slow breath, a haunting, cracked smile touching my lips. I moved my hand from your sleeve to your chest, resting it over your heart.
"You say we must return our bodies to the creator," I whispered.
"Then let me be the path."
"If you won't take anything from the CEO," I continued softly, "then take everything from the Ansh. If nothing belongs to us… then let us belong to nothing together."
My strength finally gave way.
I slumped forward, resting my head against your lap. The world blurred. Exhaustion claimed me at last.
"I won't stop the chanting anymore," I murmured, my breath shallow against the fabric of your clothes. "I will let you return your body to her… as long as you let me be the hands that hold it while you do."
"If I am an illusion, Manu…" my voice faded, fragile but sincere,"then let me be the most beautiful illusion you ever had. Let me be the one who serves your source."
Darkness tugged at the edges of my mind.
"I don't want your ego," I whispered, consciousness slipping."I just want… to be the place where you find her."
"Don't die to find her," I breathed.
"Live… so I can see her in your eyes."
The dawn continued to rise.
And for the first time, I did not try to own the light.