Transcendental Reflections: Dr. Chari, Ayyappan, and the Quantum Nature of Death
- Sriranga VN
- Jul 30, 2025
- 2 min read
🕯️ Transcendental reflections.....Ah! Life
The sun was setting quietly over the horizon. The neem tree outside the clinic swayed gently in the breeze, as if bowing in silence.
Dr. Chari’s mobike came to a halt outside his modest home. His usual humming was absent. He parked it carefully, took off his sandals, and stepped inside — not as the village’s beloved physician today, but as a quiet man returning from something much heavier than a house call.
He washed his hands slowly at the basin. The smell of tulsi soap lingered.
He had just returned from the home of Ayyappan, a 24-year-old boy with kind eyes and a liver that gave up too soon. Cirrhosis. Final stage. No transplant possible. Just... letting go....
Dr. Chari had held Ayyappan’s hand until the end. No machines. No noise. Just presence.
He sat down on the floor of his small study. No light was on yet. The dusk was enough.
His eyes welled up — but no tears fell. Only the familiar ache of being human.
He reached for a book nearby, Quantum Enigma, and opened to a dog-eared page he had underlined long ago:
"The observer and the observed are not separate. When the measurement ends, what was hidden becomes the whole."
He closed the book and whispered to himself:
“Ayyappan... your drone has stopped flying. But maybe now, you can finally see.”
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“What if life is like piloting a drone,” he thought, “and the ego, the body, the ‘I’ — is just the controller watching the drone feed.”
“We fly it. We think it’s us. We panic when it crashes. But we’re not the drone. We’re the one holding the controller. And the moment the drone stops — when the body dies — we drop the controller… and suddenly, we see the whole sky. The entire landscape we were blind to... while piloting.”
He stood up slowly, walked to his bookshelf, and picked up a thin volume of the Upanishads.
“That which is never born, never dies. Life and death arise together, like waves in the same ocean,” he read.
He smiled — not from joy, but from knowing.
“Vedanta knew this all along,” he whispered.
“Quantum agrees. Death is not an end. It’s a reset of perspective. A return to the Field.”
The bell from the village temple rang in the distance. He walked to the window, watching the sky change from gold to indigo.
And he finally lit a lamp.
Not in mourning.
But in honor — of the truth behind appearances.
Ayyappa’s body was gone.
But the vast consciousness... the Field... remained. And the cycle will go on....
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