pilgrim’s blog

The cold morning breeze caressed her face. Walking on the nettle lined grass covered mud path between the paddy fields she took in a deep breath of the fragrant air. The sky still carried the last tinges of the grey. The time just before the sun broke into the horizon was the time she loved the most. The anxiety of waiting could be felt in the air. The wet grass mingled with the brown mud stuck to her feet. A few more paces took her to the patch of green where she sat at this time of the day whenever she was there. She settled down to a comfortable position. The grass around her was dew drenched. Oblivious to the fact that the water on the grass was soaking her skirt, she sat on the ground. She loved to scribble her name on the powdery grass. As she lifted her little finger to scrawl on the dew covered grass, one particular dew caught her interest. She brought her face closer to it to get a clearer view. The tiny drop looked back at her frightened. She smiled and asked it the reason of its fear. Sitting atop a blade of grass precariously it said with its head bowed that it was awaiting the arrival of the sun. Then as if lost in itself , continued, it had been waiting for that moment since its birth when the sun would touch it, enlightening every corner of its being elevating its lacklustre self to a startling diamond like form and it would glow brighter than the brightest of the diamonds. If the fingers rubbed over it in an attempt to scribble the name it would be wiped out before its big moment came it said. Now she could read the reason behind the fearful expression on the little dew’s face. But this small incident made her ponder on the fate of the tiny dew when the sun made its appearance….wouldn’t it be wiped out even then. Either ways annihilation was inevitable. But the little dew had not once thought of it. The same sun that would give a meaning to its life would be the cause of its end also. Or was it aware of it and chose to ignore the fact ,drinking on the joys of life as long as time allowed it to. Did not it choose to be enthusiastic about its future happiness rather than brood over its impending death…….

Amidst the lush green paddy fields it appeared like a speck from far.The only way to reach it was by taking the mud path that crisscrossed the paddy fields. On reaching closer to the building one could see a flight of stone steps leading to it. At first glance the structure looked like any ordinary house seen in the villages of Kerala. Laterite walls, wooden pillars, huge wooden doors with intricate carvings on them and tiled roofs. The brass fittings atop the roof were the only proof that it was the abode of the local deity whose blessings the people living there seeked before doing anything auspicious.

She had not seen a more unassuming building before. The people who were seen praying at the wee hours of the morning consisted of few simple village folks. Men attired in white starched dhotis and women wearing the traditional Kerala costume with basil leaf strewn carelessly in their hair stood with hands folded deep in prayer awaiting the door of the sanctum sanctorum to open to reveal to them the idol of the Lord covered in sandalwood in the form of a little boy wearing a red loin cloth holding butter in one hand and the flute in the other.

She wondered what would these simple folks be asking Him. Their faces looked so serene , no frowns distorting them. Could they be thanking Him for what He had given them? Their content looks did not say anything other than that. The light morning breeze unpolluted like these people standing around her filled her with a sense of love towards all. That was when she felt the true presence of God. The mind broke free of its confines and the feeling of benevolence wrapped her. The mind became devoid of all thoughts like the clear blue sky. The soft chanting in the back ground eased her mind. She desired to freeze the moment .Only if she could slip into this state of mind at her will .

It is not always by looking at His idol that you feel his presence she realized. That day she saw him in the faces of the simple human beings who stood around her. 

Raju came to our house as the replacement of our earlier driver who had gone on a long leave on account of ill health. He was a youngster who had great respect and admiration for the elders in the family. He had none of the vices of the youth of his age. The only weakness he had was towards vegetables and fruits that grew on other people's property. When ever he came across such things in plentiful he would authoritatively pluck a few without bothering to ask the owner. His justification was that there was no harm in distributing a few of these things among those who did not have it when the owner had so many to spare. And he felt no good human being would oppose to this act of his and hence he did not think it necessary to ask the permission of the owner. Now for us ordinary mortals it took some time to understand Raju's act of kindness and not before undergoing a lot of embarrassment.

One Sunday, my husband had gone to meet his friend at the friend's place. On returning Raju handed me a big pumpkin saying that it was from the friend's house. I understood it as a gift from the friend's wife who was into organic farming in a big way. The same evening I happened to meet this family at a get together. Not wanting to miss the opportunity of thanking the lady for her large heartedness I walked up to her and did the same profusely. Seeing no sign of recollection on her face I realized something was amiss. After reflecting on the issue she said that she was sure she had not sent me any pumpkin. I felt shabbier than Cinderella and wished the pumpkin would turn into a chariot and I into a princess escaping in the chariot. But that was not to be. I stood there finding it hard to come up with an explanation. Some how or the other I came up with the most unconvincing one and ran for my life.

The next morning on confronting Raju about the whole incident pat came the reply that the pumpkin was definitely from the friend's house but not a gift. While saying this to me  I tried to search in vain for a glimpse of guilt on his face but it wore an expression of a man who had done a very normal and natural thing. I knew it would be a waste of time to admonish him for it as in the first place he never realized what he did was wrong. But still for my peace of mind I told him not to repeat it again but after every trip he would have some item of fruit or vegetable to hand over to me. At last I thought it easier to stop thanking friends for the things brought by him than to try make him see light .   

The forest floor covered in dew bathed velvet grass touched the softness of her feet. She loved to walk bare feet, experiencing the touch of the ground . The thin mud path way that ran through the woods was wet too. It must have rained last night. She had a vague recollection of the sound of the rain falling on the roofs. Though she had tried to open her eyes to enjoy the sight they were so laden with sleep that she had given up the attempt. So just the sound, lingered in some remote corner of her memory. As she stepped on to the brown chocolate like ground from the lap of the softness that was the green grass the creamy earth seeped in through her toes giving her child like pleasure in digging her feet deeper into the softness. Lifting her feet from the slush she watched with amusement the thick mud dripping down from her soft feet. She continued her walk. The grass on either side grew thin giving way to thorny herbs. She tip toed between them avoiding them by a fraction of an inch sometimes and at other times they scratching her tender skin making them bleed. The pain made her stop her on her tracks, till she rubbed them away and resumed her journey ignoring the persistence of the thorns to slow her down. The mud path abruptly got lost among the gravels some rounded some sharp. The stones pressed against the softness of her feet hurting them bluntly. Unable to press her feet hard on them her gait became fast and light. She reached the moss covered flight of steps leading downwards to the pond. The slippery ground, if not negotiated carefully, would make her journey effortless but not before gifting her a few bruises. Placing her feet on the slimy steps, her heart pounding fast and with undivided concentration she moved cautiously. She knew one false step and she would hurt herself badly for there was nothing there to which she could hold on for dear life. Such times when she was absolutely on her own were the times she dreaded the most. Was it not amusing to think that she had to move fast a few moments earlier while walking on the pebbles and now for the same reason she was walking at a snail's pace. The steps took her to the green waters of the pond. Her relief was unbound when she sat on the last step and allowed the warm water to engulf her tired, soiled, bruised feet. She watched the water play around them and the particles of mud slowly bade them farewell to be lost in the depths of the pond. Her fair soft feet once again made their emergence their outline blurred and shaky underwater a result of the game played by the reflecting and refracting rays of the sun.

Her walk to the pond was so much similar to her walk through life, sometimes soft, sometimes thorny, sometime slippery and yet sometimes fast and slow alternately. But the anointing was what she waited for when the wear and tear gone she would emerge not new as she desired not for that but as her old self when she had begun the journey ..

Water the elixir of life turned the destroyer of life that fateful evening for a group of enthusiastic tourists who were aboard a boat that was arranged to take them around the Thekkady lake to spot wild animals in their natural environment. It is believed that on spotting some big animals the tourists standing on the deck moved to one side to get a better view which disturbed the balance of the boat and lead to its capsizing. Among those who lost their lives, majority were women and children.

Most of the channels were airing scenes from the place of the accident along with information of what was happening there. On one channel I saw a rescuer carrying the lifeless body of a small boy that he had lifted out of the water. He handed over the rag doll like body to the paramedics who were seen giving the child artificial respiration before declaring him dead. The half closed eyes of the child still haunts me. These same eyes would have carried myriads of expressions in the small span of life that it lead. Now it lay almost closed as if drawing the curtain to the last scene of the play. I did not have the courage to even contemplate what the mother would be going through.

These are the moments in my life when total helplessness overcomes me. The burden of each and every cell of the body becomes unbearable. Then as time lapses the helplessness is replaced by the belief that certain things are beyond our control. Life goes on till another shock jolts me out of my stupor. The vicious circle goes on and amidst all these I pray fervently to safeguard my loved ones