Heaven and Hell

There was a waterfall near my village – which I used to go when I was a kid. The water was sparkling clean – cool and refreshing. It is a place where you can lose count of time – a place where you can lose yourself amidst the maddening heat. The memory is still vivid in my mind after all these years, how I used to soak myself under the water and came out a new person – as if the water can wash away all your worries and concern. The gush of water as it falls on your head – if you stand under neath the waterfall – reminds you of a massage by a skillful masseuse – as she knead away your headaches – injecting pleasure with every touch.


Nevertheless, in order to reach this hidden paradise, you need to go through a dangerous path – slightly off-road and filled with wild bushes. The path stretched over a kilometer and a half – laid haphazardly and wide enough just a man to walk through. The bushes grew close to each other and when you walk by, you can feel it brushing your legs in a squeamish way – and in some area there are even thorny bushes that stings and might even be poisonous. People say there are a lot of snakes hiding amongst the bushes, ready to spring at unsuspecting prey and if you are unlucky, you might even run into a wild boar waiting to charge at you. Unfortunately, this is the only path that was available at the time and if you want to enjoy the bliss of the heavenly waterfall, you have to brave yourself through this hellish stretch of jungle track.

Risky as it is, I found myself unable to resist the call of the waterfall, and would visit it as often as opportunity allowed. I cut myself many times in the bushes and once I saw a two-foot long snake slithered by – but that never stopped me from going. I see the dangerous path as an obstacle that I have to overcome in order to enjoy something that elevates my soul. Some people would have appalled by my foolishness, but then again they could never understand what the waterfall meant to me.

******

I once had a shift of career during my working stint in Japan. When I moved to Osaka, I had to be separated from my daughter for a period of few months. I didn’t know whether I would like the job – and I need times to settle down before I could take care of her. I had no choice but to leave her with her mother.

I missed her terribly – my little princess. I would call her every night – talking to her about her days in her nursery – did she sleep at school today? Sometimes I would tell her bedtimes story over the phone – the phone charges was exorbitant but that didn’t matter naught, what matters is hearing her voice – her laughter is the most beautiful music for him.

The only problem with this arrangement – was the fact that in order to reach my lovely daughter, I had to call the mother’s cellphone – what can you expect? She is only 3 at the time. And that means I have to talk to the mother first.

“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you? Having a lot of fun, eh?”

The mother’s voice was always full of mockery. Even with more than hundreds of kilometers away, I could sense the hostility in her voice – ready to pick a fight. The accusing tone of her voice cut like a knife. This would usually be followed by the guilt inducing therapy.

“Do you know that your daughter was looking for you last night? She was crying and saying that she wanted to play with Papa. And you know what I told her? I told her Papa doesn’t want her anymore.”

I would be consumed by mounting anger - like a fire slowly building up on a pile of woods. I feel like extending my hands into the cellphone and reach across the phone line to strangle her, that bitch – but that is something I can’t possibly do, can I?

“You can go for movies and drinking session with your friends while we suffer here – with your meager allowance of 2K. You know how much things cost these days? We could hardly survive with your two bloody K. And still you could afford to go out and have fun.”

She never failed to stir my anger – sometimes she would rile me to the point where I want to crush the phone and use a hammer on it - but somehow I have come to accept that this is something that I have to go through in order to talk to my daughter.

So I would take a long breath and let her words flow through my mind – like forcing oneself to listen to very bad music. It usually would extend up until she made a point – and that is more often than not – a request for more money –perhaps for an expensive facial or hair treatment. I would eventually have to relent to her outrageous demands – and heave a sigh of relief when my daughter came on.

I could never understand why a person can use her daughter as a tool to blackmail – and sometimes as a shield to cover up her own mistake. But make no mistake – such a person does exist – and to face her or to talk to her is sometimes tougher than Dante’s journey across Hell. Thinking back, it’s million times tougher than using that jungle track to reach my childhood hideaway – the waterfall.

******

Perhaps this is life – designed as a maze to test our integrity and virtues. In order to reach the heaven, we have to walk through hell. And if we should crumble and fall along the way – at least we know we are one step closer to the heaven. Perhaps that’s the reason why human like me – we still take the risk, we still take the only way we know to reach the one we love – even thought that means we might have to struggle and suffer along the way.

At least we have a destiny – a “heaven” where we know we belong. Some people don’t even know where there heaven lies – they just walk around aimlessly all their life.

So if you just happened to be walking on the path that traverses hell and filled with agony and suffering at this moment – be tough. The heaven is just a few more steps ahead.