Spinach And The Hard Work.

Last morning I bought spinach from the market.After coming home I handed over the bunch to my mother for it needed to be washed, cleaned and the spinach leaves need to be individually separated.

As I handed over the bunch, Ma told me-“Now what? The whole bunch needs to be cleaned and so forth.Who will do that? By simply handing over the bunch your work simply gets over.”

I kept quiet and went to my room.Soon Ma entered my room with a tray on which there were sandwiches and coffee.Ma had made them for me.Ma kept the tray on the table and as she was leaving I held Ma’s arms and said -“Ma please share the sandwiches and the coffee with me.”

Ma-“No, I bought these sandwiches for you.”

I-“Please Ma have the sandwiches with me.”

After a lot of pleading Ma said ” yes”.

As we sat down to have the sandwiches and the coffee. I said-“Ma sorry for the spinach. I will help you clean them.”

Ma patted my back and gave me a big kiss.

I think this how parents teach their children to share the workload.



The Song Of Life.

This new born baby is the joy and love of his/her parents. Within him/her they can see themselves.He/she is a miniature version of his/her parents with his/her own individuality.

Life is a very precious gift, which mustn’t be given away at any cost.

I was very grumpy. I ate two plates of panipuri and then again could not control myself and asked the sandwich vendor to give me the sandwiches of my choice.

The junk in my stomach was not melting and not even a single burp was coming out.

Ma was also unhappy to see me like that. We went to the mall and proceeded towards the gaming zone. I love to watch children playing in the rides. We could not stand there for long and came out of the mall.

We stepped out from the exit door and were coming down the steps, when a number of collegians entered the mall, most probably they had bunked college. We ignored them.

Ma told me that we would walk the distance till home and my stomach would be easy. An old man, little bent, holding a stick and limping at each step was walking ahead of us.

We crossed the brackish water stretch. Metro work is going on over there.

Crossed the road through the space given for all. Ma asked me to walk slowly as the man was ahead of us and seemed feeble. He crossed and we too crossed. A person helped him also. He sat on the footpath at the junction of our lane just to the right, spread a plastic sheet. His dhoti had turned slight grey to black and his kurta was torn in three places and patch work was done on too.

While sitting cried in a wonderful, heavy tune from his heart without scratches “Radhe- O Jagdish” (the consort and her lord). His voice was extremely melodious , perfect in sur and taal.It was a crystal-clear voice. He could have beaten any champion of any reality T.V. show.

Both of us were stunned and understood that he earns by singing.

We went near him.Mother gave him ten rupees and I requested him to sing the same song.

He looked at me quizzically and asked-“You want to hear this same song from me or some other song?”

I replied-“No, I want to hear this particular song from you.”

He-“Are you sure?”

I-“Yes, uncle”.

His face was tired.

He closed his eyes and two lines from a Krishna bhajan came out from his heart.It was –“Lord, please forgive me that I cannot see you though you are forever mine”.

He stopped singing. I can tell you that, his voice is unique, superb and realized beyond life and death. His voice pierced our heart and overcoming with emotions, Ma and me, both of us were in tears.

Few passer-by’s too had stopped on their way, to hear him sing. His voice was a rare voice. Such rare voices can never ever be measured nor are they awarded on Earth.

While tears splashed from my eyes, many questions were aroused in my mind. They were:-

1.Where did he learn to sing so beautifully?

2.Was he a singer? A trained or a professional singer once upon a time?

3.How come with such a beautiful and rare voice, he was sitting near a nullah on a plastic sheet with the sky as his covering?

But I couldn’t ask him those questions. The questions remained inside my mouth. I felt that he was a huge personality and that gap between him and me was very big.

I gave him ten bucks and asked him “Uncle will you have something?”

He accepted the ten rupees with a namaskar and replied-“Tea”.

Still the questions pounced my heart and yet I controlled myself. That old man was an extremely talented musician and definitely he had some connection with the music world/industry. Seeing him there, it simply didn’t feel right.

I crossed the side lane and brought tea for him. His face glowed.

Wittily he looked to us and told-“I take care of my voice and throat.”

God, let me hear from him, let him sing many more songs for many, many more days.

The song of life is like a flowing river, like the sweet melodious tune of a bird. The song can be easy, it can be hard and it can be neither easy nor hard. That’s how the song of life goes. Once it starts, it doesn’t stop. Like the musician, it too has kept on flowing. He has lost his everything, but his music is with him. Be with you and within you.You are you.

The average life span of a tortoise is more than 200 years, yet they don’t change. Even their pace remains the same.

“The you” who resides in you is like a rose. Just as a rose can’t smell and look like lily or jasmine and in the same way, your self can’t change. Hold on to it and see the truth of life flowing within it.

My stomach trouble was gone.



Holidays Begin and Going for a Bus Ride.

Life is a big holiday. It is such a prolonging version of vacations that we miss out the fun that the big guys nearly and always have. They are always in their mojo and whatsoever may come nothing can poke and change them. So, simply to get a change and to be in good fresh air (which doesn’t exist anymore), we have decided to go on a trip.
The bags are ready, tiffins have been packed in air tight tiffin boxes and our tickets to holidays are ready. We are going to a place, where there is fresh air, the hotels are modest, not too extravagant and the prices are not steep. Food is moderately priced and the best thing is you can play any outdoor game whenever you want, be it football, cricket, badminton, etc.
The destination for which the tickets have been booked is nearly a half a day journey by bus or an eight hour journey by train.
Simply imagining the fun that I would have, my sports shoes are doing Zumba by themselves and my storybooks are super excited themselves. Ma has made three sorts of tiffins to be had on our way to that place and everything which exists is humming –“hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,holiday,holiday,holidays.”
It feels as if with us, our things too would enjoy the holidays.
The bus is a luxury bus. But there is nothing “ooh-aah” about it. Only, you can stretch your legs a bit if you want and the bus looks grand.
I have taken two apples in my pocket in case I get extra hungry on the way and we are now simply waiting for the journey to start. Once the bus starts it will make a stop only after two hours and you can’t attend nature’s call in between a bus journey.B y the way, who wants to even have nature calling, while you are in a bus? Once you have settled down nicely in your hotel room, then nature can call as much as it wants (limited edition only).
The big engine of the bus has started doing-“grrr,grrr and grrr”, signalling that it is hungry for a road trip and the trip begins.
We have just crossed the first hundred miles of our journey and that means nearly half of our journey. The bus did stop twice in between and no, we didn’t attend nature’s call as the nature didn’t come calling. Ma bought me a gems chocolate packet and a pack of salted peanuts and buttered croissants from a vendor who was selling his wares on the bus (when the bus had stopped).

Now the last leg of the journey is coming to an end and within five minutes we would reach our destination and the hotel people would have sent a cab over at the bus station for us and soon we would be taking a hot water bath and a medium sized nap to break all the tiredness of our journey.
Next day, when the Sun was looking baby sized, we went for a trek on the nearby hills and it was fun. The trek guide himself was trembling and seizing anything to which he could hold himself too. He had a big trouble keeping his feet steady on the hills and often would request us that if we would like to go for an enclosed bus tour in a nearby jungle.
We came back to the hotel at around two o’clock in the afternoon and went straight for lunch.
The food which we had the day before in the bus was excellent.The bus ride was so bumpy, but the food which Ma had prepared was so beautiful, that it helped me keep myself in me during the whole journey.

She had prepared three items, which were-Hakka noodles, buttered sandwiches with mind blowing stuffing and vegetable fried rice with pakodas. It felt as if the long journey was simply created so that I ( we) could enjoy the food prepared by her, thoroughly and throughout the time which the bus took to reach its goal.

The lunch which we had was good, but not superb. The dal tadka was excellent and the buttered naan was done nicely. The rest of the food was good.
In the evening we had tea and samosa. After that we went for a little walk and before sunset we had visited a beautiful garden and the smell of the flowers over there made my mind hum and belt out a few evergreen melodies. In times like these, one needs to sit down on a bench and simply take the scenery in. The more you take it in, the more you can sustain yourself.

The dusk had spread its wings all over the sky and our friend the Sun had already gone and it was time for us to go back to our hotel room. The walk back to our hotel room was a bit slow as the garden had a beautiful effect on us and we strolled at a slow pace, leisurely.
Such are the beautiful things which are like small pebbles in God’s collection of pebbles.
The rest of the journey, I would narrate tomorrow.