the whole, still in the dark
A dark room. Six scholars, blindfolded. Between them, something vast and breathing.
NARRATOR
“They were each asked the same question. What is this before you?”
one hand feels the snake
hands closing around the trunk
THE FIRST
“A serpent. Thick as my arm, and it moves. I am certain. This is a snake.”
one hand feels the fan
palm flat against the ear
THE SECOND
“You are a fool. It is a fan, broad and thin. It stirs the air when I wave it.”
one hand feels the spear
gripping the tusk
THE THIRD
“Neither. It is smooth and hard and comes to a point. A spear. We should be afraid.”
one hand feels the pillar
arms around a leg
THE FOURTH
“Nonsense. It is a pillar. A tree. It holds up the roof of the world.”
one hand feels the wall
leaning on the flank
THE FIFTH
“A wall. Warm, endless. It has no edge that I can find.”
one hand feels the rope
a thin cord in the fingers
THE SIXTH
“A rope, frayed at the end. You are all dreaming.”
the whole, still in the dark
They argued until morning. Not one of them lied.
NARRATOR
“Each held a true report of a false whole. Six facts, and no elephant.”
the whole, still in the dark
centuries on, in a room full of instruments
A LATER VOICE
“We asked light the same question. Is it a wave, or is it a particle? It answered yes, and yes, and refused to choose.”
the whole, still in the dark
A LATER VOICE
“The old Jains had a word for our humility. Syādvāda. It may be. Every honest answer begins there.”
Six true reports of a false whole. The elephant was never wrong. Only our certainty was.