The Loom of Time
Rajiv Mudgal’s novel The Loom of Time uses the metaphor of a loom to reflect on the nature of time and history. It presents history not as a fixed, linear narrative, but as a dynamic and flexible weave—one that shapes human existence and, at the same time, is shaped by it. Here, time is not merely a measure but an experience—lived, felt, and continually rewoven. The novel questions the stability of space and time, suggesting that they too are subject to influence and transformation. It also emphasizes the cyclical nature of time, where events and themes echo and reappear across generations.
Within this framework, the novel interlaces philosophical reflection with the intimate stories of its characters. It explores the tension between ideals and lived reality, the quest for truth and meaning, and the fragile yet enduring power of personal narratives. The book suggests that the story of the world is never whole or permanent; it remains fragile and in constant need of repair with threads of truth, hope, and understanding. Ultimately, The Loom of Time reveals that individual lives are inseparable from the larger weave of history, and that each personal journey adds an essential thread to the collective saga we call the story of humanity.
In the Novel ‘The Loom of Time’, Appendix the protagonist explores truth and perception through an encounter with Jiddu Krishnamurti. In a pivotal scene, a child challenges Krishnamurti’s words, asking, “What is the source behind these words?” This question rejects both metaphysical absolutes (the “eternal sky”) and materialist reductions (the “clouds” of material thoughts and emotions as being a by-product of economic production, the daily economic activity by individuals, people and nations generating historical, social, political and religious realities). The loom, initially an abstract concept, becomes the live process of projection and reception, weaving the guru–audience dynamic. The child’s unfiltered gaze, free from bargains or roles, embodies the “first and last freedom,” completing the novel’s arc from a cosmic loom to the liberation of unmediated seeing.
In “The Ghost” chapter of The Loom of Time, मृत्यु (Death) and महाकाल (Mahākāla, the cosmic embodiment of Time) come alive as structuring principles of existence. Death is not just an end but a threshold into the vast, impersonal flow of Mahākāla—where individuality dissolves into cosmic temporality. Here, death appears both as rupture and revelation: the breaking of embodied existence, and at the same time the unveiling of impermanence beneath all things. The ghostly figure embodies this in-between state—neither fully alive nor wholly dissolved—echoing humanity’s uncertainty in confronting mortality. To face death is to face the fragility of memory, identity, and attachments, all of which are eventually absorbed into Mahākāla. Mahākāla emerges as the loom itself—Time eternal—ceaselessly weaving destinies and dissolving forms back into the formless. Unlike मृत्यु, which is felt personally, Mahākāla is universal and impersonal, erasing boundaries between self and other, life and afterlife. In the ghost’s wandering, Mahākāla is the silent backdrop, the vastness in which individual shadows flicker for a moment before fading away. The chapter suggests that मृत्यु is the doorway, while महाकाल is the architecture within which that doorway opens. Death as a singular event gives way to Mahākāla, the timeless continuum. The ghost dramatizes this transition—caught between the immediate shock of death and the all-absorbing expanse of cosmic time. This vision resonates deeply with classical Indian thought: मृत्यु as a necessary dissolution, and महाकाल as the eternal witness who devours even gods and galaxies. Death, then, is not an isolated end but a rhythm in the loom of time—where Mahākāla, the cosmic weaver, ceaselessly weaves and unweaves all forms, living or spectral.
