Bridge

   I was passing over a bridge in my car. A date was written at entrance to the bridge, mentioning when it was constructed. The work would have lasted for two years or so. Before that it would have been very difficult for the people to cross the river. It might have needed a long drive through another bridge. Perhaps people might be using boats. They might have to transfer goods from one vehicle to boat and then to another too.

   Somebody made the bridge and now many are benefited on its account. Toil of a few people and a fixed cost; and gain for many.

  We can join two banks with such efforts and expenditure. But can’t we build bridges between minds of people, between  different ways of thinking and beliefs? And lo! It does not need any expenditure or physical, efforts. What is needed is just change of attitude.  We have just to reach the mind of the other person. We have to build a mental bridge only. We have just to reorient our thoughts, speech and actions, just an open minded compromise in our fixed way of being.

  If such bridges were there, so many wars, vengeance, bloodshed and grief    could have been avoided.

  But it is building such bridges that is the most difficult!

  Why? 

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Translated from - 

 

પુલ ઉપર – એક અવલોકન

Empty house

     It is a new house recently constructed or an old one renovated and for sale or it is a house recently bought. Whatever be the case, it is an empty house and the new residents are going to occupy it soon. Its brightness and cleanliness are conspicuous. There is loneliness of being unoccupied, but there is hope too. The passion for life that is going to be lived is in the perspective. New furniture will come in, fresh food will be cooked and its aroma will fill all its spaces. Melodies of pleasing and romping music are going to resonate the walls. Hymns of sacred prayer to the deity are going to be chanted. Pretty soon the chatter and laughter of kids is going to reverberate all around. The pink hue of romance and love is going to blossom in secret corners behind closed doors. New life is going to be lived here. The house is awaiting in all these aspirations.

    There is another empty house too. It has been vacated recently. The residents have just now left it to stay elsewhere. Useless, left out,  diverse futile things – torn and worn cloth pieces, waste papers, cobwebs, dust and trash are lying helter skelter all around. More prominent and sobbing are the looming loneliness and the vanished lives that have deserted the home. The entire being of the house is dark and gloomy. Dark clouds of solitude have totally vanquished the milieu. That gap is not going to be filled in soon. There are only despair and desertion all around. There is no life here. It is an empty house – not a home.

…………………….

      This could be house, a relation. It could be a road, a new thought, a novel experience. It could be an unborn tune generated in the mind of a musician. It could be an unread, emotion filled and rhythmic lyric that has just arisen in the bosom of a poetic heart.  It could be the unblosomed bud of a flower, a newly born infant or aspirations of a bride that has just experienced the first touch of love.

       It could be a vacated house or the palace of a defeated king broken by the sledge hammer of the conqueror, howling in deep grief for the splendor that is never going to come back. It could be a deserted, lifeless road weeping for the lives and dreams annihilated after a riot. It could be a terminated and broken relationship. It could be old newspapers  stacked away on a shelf that will never be read again; or it could be dull sentiments or insensitive thoughtlessness. It could be life lived only for the self.  It could be a gloomy heart wailing  mutely for permanent departure of a loved one.

     Are not the clownish lives, that are selfish, intolerant, unsympathetic, devoid of any fervor and passion  also like that empty house?

Travel in a slum

    This is a story of year 1999. I was a Sr. Manager in one of the distribution zones of my employer – Electricity Utility of a big city in Western India. In a big city like that, we had a couple of zones like mine, As I was in its charge, all officers and employees were reporting to me. My zone was the biggest in the company; hence we had all types of customers.

   I had various types of tasks. It was like a mini company by itself. A part of these tasks was a very essential, but obnoxious one – ‘To detect and curb power theft.’

    In one of the meetings, the officer in charge of meter reading section reported that thefts are prevalent on large scale, in a big slum near a small village on the outskirts of the city. I was in search of a massive operation. So this information clicked. I decided on the back of my mind to undertake a massive raid in that area. We do not declare such decisions publicly amongst our staff in advance, to maintain secrecy and ensure that the defaulter customers do not get advance information. Only after thorough preparations we declare it – after reaching just a mile or so away from the target place.

    It was a very big slum area, consisting of about 1000 residences. I had never visited a slum area in my life, and I too was keen to see it for myself. Hence I also joined that venture. I had quite a big crew – almost like a small platoon. I had arranged additional staff on loan from other two zones too. Total strength was about 100 people. A few armed guards were also included. We had necessary communication equipment too. The whole congregation reached the destination and we started the operation. I joined one of the groups to watch it for myself.

   In fact it was not a typical, unauthorized slum – like many mushrooming on the outskirts of the city. They were Low Income group quarters, built under a Municipal housing scheme. Each one consisted of just a small room and very small kitchen, without any bathroom or toilet. In such colonies, these facilities are provided on common sharing basis. Still they were occupied by very poor people. I could see signs of poverty everywhere – Dirt, mud, broken furniture, lying outside, rags tingling from windows and doors, debris spread all around.

   Each house was given power supply by means of a small cable. We could observe that there was a small, black, plastic tape on almost all such cables. A small, flexible, two core wire was dangling from that point on the cable and was entering the house.

   At one house, we opened the tape and could see two nails driven through the insulation of power cable; to which, the flexible wire was twisted. This was direct, crude power theft, from ahead of the energy meter! We removed all these as also fuses from the power supply switch. A woman was watching this with crestfallen face, full of fear and sorrow. My assistant officer handed over a legal disconnection notice to her as also a demand for payment of penal charges. She was on the point of weeping. Her eyes were telling something. Out of curiosity, I asked her ,” Do you want to say anything?”

   In a voice mixed with fear and sobs she said” Sir! Where shall I get the money to pay to Dada?”

   I did not understand. I asked the electrician, what she meant to say. He was familiar with such locations. He mentioned,” She is talking about the slumlord (Dada) of the area. Moment we go out, Dada’s men will come over, take 100/- Rupees and give connection afresh – fuse or no fuse! Those who pay money to them will get power supply in a jiffy. Every month Dada gets 50/- rupees for power supply charges too. Our company does not get a single paisa (penny) !“

   I got taken aback; there was a parallel, unauthorized power supply administration! At the cost of our power Dada was getting empowered. We went to a few more places and found similar situation. Our entire operation was futile. Our raid was going to put in more riches in the lap of Dada. More evils are going to be nurtured.

   With a grim face and mind, I went further. A bit away from that house, under the open sky and in blazing sun, an old man was lying down on a half broken, wooden cot. There was no place for it in the house. He had acclimatized himself in this air conditioned space! He was coughing and spitting around while sleeping. Two totally naked kids were playing around him in total disregard of the dirt around.

  We went a bit beyond. I saw three ruffians watching our activities. Their faces were looking horrible. I asked the electrician, who they were.

   He answered, “ They are from Dada’s gang. They are just waiting for us to leave. Moment we are OFF, they will start their operation of collecting money and reconnecting the supply. They are highly pleased with us – additional income for them! “

    We proceeded beyond. In front of a house two more ruffians were sitting on a cot. I was told that they sell illicit liquor, hidden in that house. (There is prohibition for selling of liquor in my city.) As I looked at them, one of them offered a free drink to me. He added that he has authentic and imported liquors too. This was a pathetic revelation for state of affairs in the biggest city of Gujarat ,native state of Gandhiji – a strong believer of prohibition.

    We went further on. Two teenage girls were standing near the door wearing just a blouse and short slacks. Their growing bosoms were apparently being revealed inviting ravishers. Their hands were moving over their open thighs in suggestively seductive posture.

   That was end of my patience. I felt myself totally incapacitated, ineffective and inefficient. I blurted out to my assistants,

   ”Let us go back. This raid is totally useless.”

   We went back to our office. But for three days, the scenes I had witnessed with my own eyes hovered over my mind. They were resounding, loud and clear.

   The slum world was challenging my culture, the civilized society, the dream world of poetic justice and niceties. It had torn open the curtains of my snobbishness.

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Transalated from … 

સ્લમમાં સફર

Grass

    You are standing on the edge of a green pasture. The tantalizing greenery in front of you soothes your eyes and mind. You fly on wings of imagination and go nearer and nearer. That green patch grows bigger and yet bigger every moment and envelops your horizon all around in a pleasant green hue.

    As you go nearer, you are dwarfing – smaller and yet smaller. In the coolness of that green world, you do not realize your diminishing size. You are totally surrounded by the greenery now. The small grass blades now seem as big as the leaves of a palm. You sit on them like a wasp and enjoy the coolness of their soothing, soft touch. Green is the only color of your world now. You feel you are a a part of the good old fairyland. The Garden of Eden is rolling in light breeze all around you. In that swinging green, your heart is also rolling in boundless joy. The Deep of joy is surfing all around. There is nothing but joy, joy and joy- within and without your being.

   You are tempted now to be one with that green ocean. The light breeze tumbling the greenery encourages you, and echoes your desire. With a burst of passion, you hop inside a blade. A tube is carrying a river of life juice that keeps the blades alive. The particle of blade on which you are sitting looks like a soccer ball and is breathing with the warmth of Sun – expanding and contracting as they inhale and exhale. With every breath, juice from the tube comes in and goes out, exchanging food and water between the roots and the blades. Your entire being feels one with that of the blade. The throbbing, pulsating, divine dance of life in every particle of the blade resonates with your own now.

   You now long to be one with the life source that makes the world of grass so much green. You jump once more and get inside the world of a green soccer ball.

   And oh! All that coolness is gone. It is a red hot oven inside. Acute acids are boiling in that dark cauldron. You are getting boiled in that dark, hot venom. The acid of life rushes towards you with an insatiable hunger; to consume you. Some unknown source of life at the center of that acid ocean goes on giving directions to annihilate you: blind in its sole desire to exist and survive: regardless of any compassion for you.

    With a burst of maddening fear you fall back. You want to run away as swift as you can. But the truth dawns on you that the process of becoming microscopic is irreversible. You are unable to go back to your original size. You make a frantic effort to break through the walls of that death castle. But, that outwardly soft, green and tender barrier is as strong as steel. You are a captive of the cruel count of that castle. In this prison, your ultimate and fatal fate is just the fraction of a second away. Now you are engulfed in the waves of that boiling acid. Just a moment and you will be converted into a corpuscle of chlorophyll.

…..

   You wake up form this ghastly reverie, profusely sweating, every inch of your skin. You are once more your own self now and that tantalizing green pasture is rolling once again before your eyes.

    But.. 

   You are totally disillusioned now, in stark nakedness – what is beauty of life, and how hard and cruel, the core of life is.

  ‘ Truth is bitter. Truth is unbearable. Truth is hard. ‘

   You know that truth now. You put full stop to your passion to find out what truth is.

   Now you are fully convinced that the elixir of life of ‘Just Living in present.’- that you have acquired is the only purpose of your life

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Translated from - 

જીવન – 8 : ઘાસ

Wind –an observation

     I am sitting on the sofa of our drawing room, resting on its side, in a stretched and relaxed mood. On my left is a glass window, giving an excellent view of the surroundings outside our house. There is a shrub adjoining the window, as also a tree about six feet away. Beyond that are the road and other houses of the community, we live in. There is a tree between two houses opposite our house.

    The leaves and branches of all these trees and shrub are fluttering with the breeze. A few leaves also get rolled and swept away here and there in the gust of the wind, once in a while.

     All these movements give an evidence of the presence of wind. What would be if these trees, shrub and loose leaves were not there ? I would have thought that the outside air is still. If all matter out there were static, I would not have sensed the liveliness of the breeze; not even strong wind.

    The windows of all houses are closed. They are just huge masses of dead and static buildings for me. But is it so inside? So many lives might be throbbing inside, full of activity.

    Lo! Look at this air that I breathe in. Is it simply air : a mixture of Nitrogen, Oxygen and other gases? – of course not. There are myriad of bacteria and viruses that my naked eyes can’t see. I would know about their existence, were I be infected by cold or having a powerful microscope.

    Only when we see, hear, touch or taste, that we can experience the presence of something.

But…

    Is it fair for us to say that nothing exists, that our senses can not reveal?

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Translated from -

પવન – એક અવલોકન