The question

The question

The story as always, begins with god.

And just before the universe was born
A very sacred law lay destroyed
Something disturbed nothingness into infinity
Something forced existence into a void
And this is the untamed energy called god
A rowdy entity from an unknown infinite
Is god the bringer of light in the darkness?
Or the bringer of darkness in the light?

A few millennia later, one man actually thought about it.
There was this schoolteacher who lead a comfortable life. He had a well paying job, two smart children, a very affectionate wife, a nice house, and a close circle of a few good friends – an almost perfect existence. Except for that one question that would not be suppressed.
The meaning of life. He had read all the major religious texts, and even some minor ones. None of them had given him a satisfactory answer, but they at least helped him understanding his own question better. At first, he merely asked for a suitable answer to the phrase. But he didn’t know what it meant in its essence. What do people want then they ask for the meaning of life anyway? He at least knew the question now. It was a question on the basic paradox of existence.
He knew that every system attains a state of equilibrium, and the total energy and mass in the system is a constant, and is evenly distributed at least eventually. But here was the catch. This equilibrium cannot be disturbed unless; an external unbalanced force acts on it. This is scientific fact and agreed upon by everyone. No system is spontaneously dynamic forever, in other words, perpetual motion machines cannot exist. This was scientific fact, and holds true for whatever section of the universe is taken into consideration. Except the whole of it. The universe seems to be a perpetual motion machine. Something had kick started the universe into existence. Some rouge with infinite energy had supplied nothingness with it. Maybe it just overflowed. Something had happened around ten raised to eighteen seconds ago that had disobeyed everything that he had known, and gradual entropy of the energy had gifted a unique set of carbon molecules with a unique set of cells that were contemplating a very unique set of ideas. What could have possible started everything. The question of existence would actually be more appropriate here.
The answer to life lay in even imagining a realm where existence was possible. Where a system was eternally dynamic. Where perpetual motion machines were an everyday reality instead of eternal impossibilities. The question was the eternal why? Why something instead of nothing. The very fact that anything exists at all, is absolute proof of perpetual motion machines. Somewhere. But why?
And the teacher dedicated his life to just coming up with even an imaginary solution to the enigma of existence. Anyone who could just come up with a perpetual motion machine, or a realm that inherently doesn’t achieve equilibrium, without an external source of energy, has just found out the answer. And he left his job, he lost his trim looks, and finally, ran away from home and became a sage. His wife and children mourned, but he no longer cared for them. He had no emotion to spare save for the dangerous question he had dared to ask. The life of a true sanyasi is more difficult than any other life on earth. Ask the man; his mind was least at peace, and often turmoil with opposing thoughts. And it was just a glimpse of the confusion beyond. The realm of real and possible existence. His soul would not find peace without answering it.
He was forced to beg for a living, but the personal indignity didn’t matter any more. He had to bear the harsh sunlight and the ceaseless rain for eighteen long seasons, and even his body had refused to feel anything. He let the rain fall. After all, it was falling only on his body. It didn’t drown his brain. And the brain, kept contemplating. And the cold brought with it a fever, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even respond to the treatment that a kindly young doctor had forced him to take. The fever crept to his brain, but his ever-energetic spirit struggled and fought with a thousand ideas. And he fell ill.

But deeper still he dwelt on his thoughts
And the truth suddenly burst into his head
And he died just as he was enlightened
But it was only his body that was dead

And the story, as always, ends with man.
-Aditya MJ