Life is a joke, a play of illusions, a mystery and sometimes magic. Suddenly, we become conscious of where we are four years after birth and find ourselves in a theatre full of people watching a play. Someone shouts on the stage: “the more you look, the less you see” and the crowd applaud ―like an agreement.
Then the screenplay entitled ECCLESIASTES, the first picture shows a scene where “All the rivers run into the sea ― yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the river come wither, they return again.” What magic can be greater than this? The crowd applauds again.
As with normal magic, you can’t be sure of anything. Not even if your smile is fake or real, or how long it will last. Every event on the stage has its effect on you. You are either hypnotized or you are part of the illusion.
Some say “life is a stage and we are all actors”. To an extent, it is true. But we are more like part of the audience watching the acts in the great hall of illusion called ‘Earth’.
In the hall representing life, you enjoy a lot of fun; food, comfort, drink, sex and more. But the funny thing is that when you want to leave, you take nothing away. A greater fun is when you see people work so hard in the first place to acquire what they would not take away. In this sense, we are all clowns acting in the hall as well as being spectators to the screenplay.
On the screen, a magician appears. He gathers sand and other dust, squeezes them together producing heat and a beautiful new product appears. He calls it 'glass'. The crowd claps and applauds. It is like producing a rabbit from an empty magician’s hat. Then he announces: “everything is dust”.
In another vanishing act, a full chicken is stuffed into a small bag ― like a stomach. And after a while, the chicken disappears even after as much as 500 chickens had been put in the stomach bag, it still remains small. He pricks a hole in the bag and a small piece of grease is all that the 500 pieces of chicken had produced as a waste product; the crowd claps and claps again. The magician then encourages people to pair up, male and female and as they do so, they produce heat and a new egg drops. The crowd applauds. Actually, the one egg is of two parts. One, the spiritual body, is allowed to hatch to produce a new spectator for the hall while the other, the physical part, is sent up by the attendants to the stage magician for the joggling act to determine its destiny.
The magician comes on stage and announces: “this is the egg joggling act. Should any egg being joggled drop, it would break and it would cease to exist. It is also part of the vanishing act”. The audience applauds. He then continues: “Let me remind you that each egg represents one of you. It is like a lottery. Your life ends as your egg mojo drops”.
The crowd is alarmed. Yet in excitement, they watch as the magician prepares the stage. He sprays the atmosphere with a mixture of gasses and vapour; viruses and other solid rusting particles that could break the egg as it is thrown-up. This is to add a thrill of luck or ill luck to the joggling. The eggs are thrown amidst the diseased atmosphere and the crowd watches as egg after egg rise through the loop. At decent they are caught and thrown up again by the magician. Some manage to go round the loop 120 times, some just do not make 2 round trips. For measurement, this is like 2 years; a loop represents each year or your birthday. As eggs drop and break, more are brought in as body heat in the theatre, between men and women produce newer eggs for the show not to stop.
Different eggs mature separately in the air. Even as many different eggs hit the ground and break, the spiritual crowd hardly notices because they are all the time watching the performance of their own personal egg. Those whose eggs have dropped, for the art of population control, just turn to dust in the hall to create space for more spectators. And this is more captivating than all the rivers running amuck around a circular ball called the earth; sometimes carrying ships that are upside down at the bottom of the ball. At this stage, there are small parties to celebrate the departure of an egg with notices that read ‘OBITUARY'.
While the joggling act is going on and people age and get hot inside, they begin to lose interest in the other pleasures not soothing to their age and class. Yes, as time creeps by, boredom affects people. In the long run, they acquire new clothes in form of wrinkled skin. Then for fashion, they acquire grotesque caricature masks of themselves with bald heads and with rummy eyes to complete the disguise. Then they acquire; Waist pain, Rheumatism, Arthritis, Osteoporosis, Alzheimer, Parkinson disease, all to keep them company. Some acquire bad eyesight for a change― to make the screen less dazzling. Men acquire walking sticks to strengthen their legs. Others start admiring the clouds and acquire white hair for a wish of purity. A majority even lose their teeth to make themselves different. The spectators now get different looks to sooth their tastes. You might not be able to recognize your neighbour after many loops of the egg-throwing circle. They call this ‘aging’.
When all these fail to amuse them, they keep their eyes on the joggled eggs and discover that the theatre is actually moving. They run to the window and see other theatres floating past theirs, and discover again that all of them are levitated and not supported on anything, like planes. One of them appears red; it can be called Red Planet or Mars.
Everything then becomes clear. A floating theatre is not real ― so also are everybody inside. Then they conclude: “floating life on a floating earth is a big joke” yet it’s worth the fun. They applaud again.