Mix grill--
you can't escape being a Buddha --
Day 1--
It was drizzling. In the wee hours of morning, cuckoo was singing hilariously and sun was playing hide and seek with some whitish orange baby clouds. I was walking in the campus thinking philosophically on playfulness of nature. In my transcendental state of mind, i almost missed the petite figure of Aunt Gurnani who lived on 2nd floor. A half smile came on her shadowy old face, wrinkled with the wisdom of 35 years of government service...was she upset, i jerked out of my dreamy approach. Slowly she told me her son pleaded for mercy killing last night....! He was given a gift of second and then third life, by highly capable Doctors of Mumbai, in span of last four years. And he was also given (beside life) pain, suffering and trauma beyond imagination. Was it really worth living? A life without life....saddened footsteps walked away as i was watched them glued to ground. Another victim of cancer....not one child but the whole family....why?
Day 2--
Another lovely day. The car speeded through the green outskirts of my native city, Kanpur. A nostalgic smell filled into airtight luxurious sedan. I looked over my shoulder, side view was as beautiful as was in front. Fine trees, bushes and clean roads are not very common in Uttar Pradesh so a warm smile spread over my face. I took a right turn and suddenly the scene changed as if i was in an auditorium, watching a stage play.....now the whole footpath on left and right side was covered with small rotten canopies and sheets. Half covered grown ups and little covered children were trying to end the day with whatever they could get. I slowed down...a roti somewhere and a handful of rice in another leaf-plate...a piece of bread or ....even that was missing....why? ...how?
Day 3--
Do i really have the strength to tell the tale of my dying music teacher?....the night was ominous and so was the morning. He taught me sitar and was very close to my whole family. Time passed and a big gap came in between and we lost touch, then one day i saw him on road buying vegetables. The same white beared and same white, stained dhoti and kurta! He was not changed! Gradually i came to know about his daughter's death because he couldn't give her enough dowry.... because he was ill and poor. We couldn't do enough and that night he called my husband because there was no one who could take him to his final destination.....the night and its breaking into a day when the sun came out from behind a curtain of smoke coming out of final pyre....i can never forget...
On eve of teacher's day should i be like a Buddha or do i feel like a young student ..... remembering the last days of my old, humble and poor teacher.... I don't know!
you can't escape being a Buddha --
Day 1--
It was drizzling. In the wee hours of morning, cuckoo was singing hilariously and sun was playing hide and seek with some whitish orange baby clouds. I was walking in the campus thinking philosophically on playfulness of nature. In my transcendental state of mind, i almost missed the petite figure of Aunt Gurnani who lived on 2nd floor. A half smile came on her shadowy old face, wrinkled with the wisdom of 35 years of government service...was she upset, i jerked out of my dreamy approach. Slowly she told me her son pleaded for mercy killing last night....! He was given a gift of second and then third life, by highly capable Doctors of Mumbai, in span of last four years. And he was also given (beside life) pain, suffering and trauma beyond imagination. Was it really worth living? A life without life....saddened footsteps walked away as i was watched them glued to ground. Another victim of cancer....not one child but the whole family....why?
Day 2--
Another lovely day. The car speeded through the green outskirts of my native city, Kanpur. A nostalgic smell filled into airtight luxurious sedan. I looked over my shoulder, side view was as beautiful as was in front. Fine trees, bushes and clean roads are not very common in Uttar Pradesh so a warm smile spread over my face. I took a right turn and suddenly the scene changed as if i was in an auditorium, watching a stage play.....now the whole footpath on left and right side was covered with small rotten canopies and sheets. Half covered grown ups and little covered children were trying to end the day with whatever they could get. I slowed down...a roti somewhere and a handful of rice in another leaf-plate...a piece of bread or ....even that was missing....why? ...how?
Day 3--
Do i really have the strength to tell the tale of my dying music teacher?....the night was ominous and so was the morning. He taught me sitar and was very close to my whole family. Time passed and a big gap came in between and we lost touch, then one day i saw him on road buying vegetables. The same white beared and same white, stained dhoti and kurta! He was not changed! Gradually i came to know about his daughter's death because he couldn't give her enough dowry.... because he was ill and poor. We couldn't do enough and that night he called my husband because there was no one who could take him to his final destination.....the night and its breaking into a day when the sun came out from behind a curtain of smoke coming out of final pyre....i can never forget...
On eve of teacher's day should i be like a Buddha or do i feel like a young student ..... remembering the last days of my old, humble and poor teacher.... I don't know!
