Akṣara

Or akshara/aksara, is a Sanskrit which means the indestructible, the imperishable, the unalterable. Perhaps the wisest Brahmin came up with the term were to explain things that weren't align with most of the nature of worldly entities; to decay. Some part of the world use this term to say “alphabet” in their language, the physical construct, the very beginning of “word”. And it seems fitting because since once words carved somewhere out from mankind’s mind, they’ll be there forever marking their existence in things, which came with different colours, and shapes. Unalterable for millenniums, cannot be undone or forgotten, until that day where all things finally forced to give up themselves to the ultimate end. Makes me wonder how human called everything back then, mentioned in many ancient languages, but would everything have the same meaning like ones we understood in present day?

Once the world and its contents were nameless, you can’t tell whether clouds were white or black, you can’t tell that it were clouds you’re seeing, you can’t tell whether it was dark or bright out there, after all there were no you, us; ones who speak the names of everything; what lies between the earth and the sky, and beyond, those the seen and the unseen, taught by the God himself. For He once the only all knowing and decreed to share His knowledge to us.

Since then words rained the universe and haven’t stopped yet. We kept naming things, lost some of their true meanings along the way. But we kept making them the Akṣara, every single one of them. We expressed through words. We drew words in so many forms. We made prayers. We proclaimed promises and we cheated them through and through. We cursed. We sang. We screamed. We whispered. We exclaimed. We broke and mend hearts with words. We became one of the words ourselves. We lived, we died, we left our existence on earth remembered with words, hence we became the imperishable too. Such hubris, I know.

We will keep naming things, we will reach the heavens farther than our hands, we will comprehend what we thought once the incomprehensible ones; with words, casting the spell making them live longer than our lifespan, almost eternal. Until one day names and words stopped raining on us, and things go soundless and nameless again. Them the Akṣara will surrender their reign, and us too, cease to exist. Decay, at last.