Didymos lay awake, immersed in the intriguing rhythm of Peter’s snores as he inhaled the whole of the universe with each breath and exhaled it at a curious pace. The release started slowly, increased steadily, reached a pinnacle and then subsided abruptly. After a brief silence, a few ugly sounds followed before the cycle began afresh. Didymos was not disturbed by these innocent remnants of speech, as his mind relished watching the state of deep sleep. He found Peter’s snores rather charming in their cadence and flow. As if savouring that midnight curiosity, a subtle smile played on Didymos’ face.
After some time, when his mind remained alert despite the weariness of the day’s journey, Didymos wondered at the reason. He had never had trouble sleeping except when his mind was overwrought. Had something happened to vex him today? Had any new hope or eagerness taken root? He could not recollect anything unusual.
With the passage of time, Didymos experienced an unrecognisable, gnawing pain overwhelming his heart. Unable to bear the turbulence, he sat up, wandered around the room, and then stood by the window. He stared at the blanket of darkness outside, listening to the chirping of the cicadas, brooding all the while. Was it an inexplicable disease? Was his time up? Had the gypsy woman predicting death come calling so soon? Had any of his forebears passed away at this age? Tentacles of apprehension seized Didymos. He grieved the possibility of having to let go of his hopes and plans for the future. Didymos contemplated shaking Peter awake to share his unease with him. He reached Peter’s side many times, but an intense discomfiture stalled his hand.
Tossing and turning on his cot, a thought struck Didymos: it wasn’t the symptom of any sickness, but the ripples of a sweet agony that was brimming in his heart. Didymos realised that he was being graced with a sacred moment, one that cradled the essence of all his past dreams. He was left wondering whether he had been praying for such a blessing all his life. For what he was experiencing was the divine sweetness of love!
A face, which appeared as an ache in the depths of his heart, became increasingly distinct as the moments passed and then vanished suddenly. The very next instant, it returned with luminous clarity. Didymos could not recall when his eyes had captured, with such precision, the subtlest expressions of that face, nor when they had taken residence so intensely in his heart. It was so unexpected, so unusual and vulnerable to derision!
Having determined the reason for his heart’s discomfort, Didymos now found himself wishing that sleep would continue to elude him. What if he lost the memories of that lovely face as he slept? In all his years, he had never encountered such perfection of beauty in a Greek maiden. The innocence of that face was deserving of worship – a divinity that should be adored only with a spotless mind! The beauty was luminous and pure, without the embellishment of any ornament or adornment. Effortlessly, it surpassed all elevated yardsticks of loveliness. My Lord! Never, ever remove this face from my memories!
Didymos fell asleep very late that night. Had Peter not woken him in the morning, he might have slumbered on till the afternoon.
It was with the heartening warmth of someone who felt privileged to have reunited with his friends after a long time that Lazarus bid them farewell. Though Didymos and Peter protested, he insisted on them staying for breakfast. He reminded them of the distance they still had to cover, warned them about the heat of the day and affectionately reprimanded them for setting off without water.
At that moment, Mariam hurried up with waterskins for their journey. Peter was deeply touched by her gesture. Had he a sister in real life, would she have cared so much? Lazarus openly praised his sister’s percipient action.
Lazarus accompanied them to the gate. The sisters stood watching from the porch. Didymos had no idea whether he would receive the hospitality of that home again, but he deeply hoped he would. Walking through the alleys, the duo reached the main street. At that point, their paths diverged.
“We are going in different directions, aren’t we?” Peter’s voice was heavy with regret.
“Two people who know each other’s secrets,” Didymos gently reminded him.
“I have no doubt we shall be faithful to one another,” responded Peter.
“I have met a thousand Jews in my journeys, broken bread with many, but never before have I revealed my identity to anyone,” said Didymos, suddenly catching hold of Peter’s hand. “But Peter, I have told you everything about myself. Though our acquaintance has lasted only a night, I feel as if I have known you all my life!”
“A herald of the future has probably brought us together.’ ‘Exactly! I was never meant to be here at all. You know that I was looking for John the Baptist. Judea is unfamiliar to me. I realized that John’s Bethany was a different place only after arriving here. Indeed, I felt furious and frustrated then. But now, I feel that losing my way was preordained.”
They embraced each other warmly, as if neither wished to let go. Didymos felt tears prickling his eyes. Bidding farewell silently, they parted ways. One walked towards Jordan and the other to Jerusalem.
Excerpted with permission from The Second Book of Prophets, Benyamin, translated from the Malayalam by Ministhy S, Simon and Schuster India.
