It was a tired and hot late evening in New Delhi. My body and mind exhausted with many tasks that needed attention and drained by the heat of summer. I took a cold bath and changed into my night clothes. I looked at my bed with its soft pillow and it looked so inviting and comforting. I asked my children if they too would now sleep. But they told me to go ahead and sleep and that they had still some more to play.

So I took my place on my side of the bed and asked them to continue to play in the same room, as I liked the humming sound of children playing and talking among themselves. It often makes me drousy with joy.

So they got into the bed too, but continued to play and I shut my eyes. The humming of my two children fading from a loud song to a soft lullaby. Soon I sensed that my body was closing in on me. It started to go inwards as if there was a deep tunnel through which I was being sucked inwards, head first. At first it felt uncomfortable and I was tempted to snap my eyes open. But I could not. My eyes simply would not be opened and my head could not be moved. It felt as though my whole body was one heap of matter with no limbs or torso. I allowed my self to let whatever was happening happen. A little fearfully.

But a small voice inside told me to go on and be not afraid. The voices of my children no longer existed. The sound of the running ariconditioner also got buffered out. It was just a drumming of the heart. And then suddenly even that sound stopped with a loud sound of PLUB, like when a pebble drops in still water. And then what followed was absolute silence, a silence that started to grow louder and louder than any noise I have ever heard.

In that noisy silence I had lost all realisation of my body, my heartbeat, my mind, my surroundings and my whole existence. I do not know what happened. There was someone, which felt like me, witnessing it all. It was a void that was empty with fullness. It was a long stopover with no place to go anymore. I don’t have any realisation of how long this lasted.

Then slowly and quietly I heard a fade memory of my children’s voices. Soon bit by bit the fading memory of all that had ceased started to manifest from a soft touch of subtlty to the gross inpenetrable hammering of matter. I was my body again.

My children were asking me if they could now switch off the light and sleep. I looked at the watch. It had been two hours since I had got into bed. I asked my daughter for a glass of water. I drank it and we all fell asleep blissfully with our warm bodies touching each other.