A Tranquil Prayer...

Merry waves.  Starry night.

Sparkling sand. Full-moon on right.

Serenity. Breeze around.

Silence is the only sound.

To The Father, humble requests

Of only two lasting bequests

That every star softly sings

One is roots, the other wings.

When Rain's At It's Best...!!!

Being blessed with April rains is a relatively new trend, courtesy Global Warming, but rains have always had an element of unquestionable acceptance about them. Rains are the drizzling reminders that heavens are ceaselessly showering their limitless blessings upon us, and which leave everything on our planet awash and anew. Whatever the time of the day, they drift the soaking souls into a whole new territory, mentally, emotionally and even geographically. No matter where one is, the drift is absolute and instant. Rains are just always welcome.

Be it the 6am shower, when the open windows usher in the most intoxicating incense of the freshly bathed Mother Earth, as if returning after her early dawn’s offerings to the Almighty.

Or the mid-day showers, when nothing on this planet, living or still, seems more beautiful and invigorating than the cheerful laughter of those tiny-tots returning from school, splashed all over with the semi-solidified subcutaneous layer of the earth. Floating paper boats, they are least aware of realizing their privilege of having drapes for their slender silhouettes and least bothered about catching a cold. Even if their mums shout their lungs out (though secretly yearning to be a part of them, then and there)!

Or be it at 4pm with ‘chai’-the ultimate Indian delicacy and steaming hot ‘pakodas’ (shove health, fitness and nutrition in the closet for the moment), the fragrance of mint, garden-fresh coriander, ginger and basil filling the air, as each member of the family recoils to his/her original self, after the hectic day at school, college, office or kitchen, content and aware of the blessings of life and elderly ones.

Or be it at 7pm, when young hearts beat rhythmically with the dribble in the basket-ball court.

Or be it during the pre-midnight hours, when the curtain flutters and brings the slightest drizzle in, as the bed-side lamp emanates its exotic radiance and the aroma of coffee revitalizes the senses and reimburses the emotional quotient as eyes scan and fingers flip through the pages of the latest bestseller by your favourite author.

In or out, now or later, here, there, everywhere, rains have always played the role of ‘soul-cleanser’, carrying one’s spirits into non-dual timelessness. With them around, one of nature’s most unassailable laws – that time just moves forward and never recedes – loses its vitality. It is in the rains that everything: the greens, browns and blues revert to unbridled, fresh childhood! And as it is, it is now that I simply want to break-free, as the kid in me just refuses to grow up, exactly the way it longs to get soaked to the soul!

A lesson well-learnt...

About a couple of years ago, when dad was posted in Dhule, Maharashtra, he often had to visit Mumbai for official meetings. The nearest airport was at Aurangabad, and he often had to take the early morning flights. Being a religious soul,  he missed no opportunity to visit the ‘jyotirling’ that is famously located there. On one such trip this incident happened, which he narrated a few days back.

One morning, on his way out of the temple, a teenager boy approached him as he was moving towards his SUV.  Inching closer, the boy said, ‘Sir, I am a student of 10^th standard and  need some money to buy books’. My dad is a thorough philanthropist and is ever ready to help people ‘who want to help themselves’ as he always puts it. “Hum to sirf zariya hain. Jo unki kismat me  hai, unhe zaroor milega” (We’re just means, they’ll definitely get what is in their fate) is what my mom adds. And my parents strongly feel the pleasures in ‘giving’. So taking it as another god-gifted opportunity to help a little child, my dad asked him to sit in the car and took him to a nearby book store. ‘When I looked at him”,dad said,”I was reminded of Viviyan (my younger brother). This boy would also be somebody’s son, probably of a father who wasn’t as fortunate as me to be able to provide his son with the books he needed for a brighter future.” From the shop, dad bought him all the books he asked for, notebooks and even other stationery. The boy thanked him and my dad left for the airport, feeling happy and content.

A few weeks later, dad had to again board the same flight at the same time. As he went about his ritual of visiting the temple,  the same boy approached him again while he was coming out. Now, my dad has photographic memory which neither was this kid aware of, nor did he himself possess. Dad immediately recognized the boy but before any other thoughts could register or process, with utter confidence this little lad started off with the same 10^th standard story, AGAIN!!!  My dad caught him and reprimanded,’a few days earlier I’d got you all those books and stationery, where are they?’ The boy struggled to release himself and finally managed to run away. 

Words probably can’t describe how violated dad would have felt.

After that, dad paid several visits to the same temple before boarding the same flight at the same time of the day, but never met that kid again.

After hearing this incident, I could not help but wonder, under whose “able guidance” was this kid actually working. [Most probable chance is that the kid(or his ‘supervisor’) would have resold the books and other stationery at silly discounts (may be to the same book store)and ‘ate, puffed and drank’ and the money was gone!]  Was this kid orphaned by fate or was it some cruel joke of destiny that had made him a subject, turning him out into someone he’s started to enjoy being! Did the child even understand the dynamics of this universe at work-that he’d be precisely and accurately awarded with whatever he was giving to this world: treachery, mistrust  and deceit.  Or may be this was all absolute non-sense for a child whose only concern was to attend to a growling stomach and fight for survival-no matter however! Who was  at fault? Better still, who was suffering because of this fault? Would he ever think twice before helping any such kid again, I asked dad. “When we stumble while walking, we neither stop walking, nor do we stop treading the same path. But we learn to be more careful and attentive and start wearing the right shoes. There are always lessons to learn. I have already started browsing websites to learn the ‘art of face-reading’.” was his reply.