Friday, January 2, 2015

A FATHER’S RAINBOW



From the pen APN

31st December 2014, the last day of the year 2014 greeted me with a wonderful rainbow spread sky. The beauty of the sky was ethereal and majestic.  I came inside my room running & tried to wake my son up but he was reluctant to come with me. He is a 4 year old child. To me the innocent face of the sleeping child looks no less beautiful than the colorful rainbow. He did not get up. Perhaps he was dreaming a more pleasant dream so I left him sleeping for some more time.
I went outside again to view the beautiful rainbow. This time, I went to a nearby field so that the trees and raised concrete structures around me would not interfere in viewing the rainbow.   After a few minutes’ existence the rainbow disappeared but before its disappearance I had clicked a few photos so that I could show them to my sleeping son later, explaining what a rainbow was. Now I was returning home but at that time my son had already wakened up and stood expectantly at the veranda to view the rainbow.  
He asked me emphatically, “Where is the rainbow?”
I could not face such a demanding question. However, I had no other way out. Finally, I told that he was late and the rainbow had faded away.
Abandoning the comfort of blanket and sleep he had taken the pain to come out to see what a rainbow was. But his hopes were now dashed to the ground. The broken hopes of the child came down rolling in glistening tears. His voice was now chocking because he had missed an opportunity to see a rainbow. He had never seen a rainbow. Missing THE UNKNOWN and missing a potential new experience were too poignant for the child.  Tear drops and his pained facial expressions torn my heart. 
It was still raining softly but the sky had no rainbow. I felt awfully sorry. I looked at the sky in all directions to find a rainbow but there were no more rainbows. I took out my mobile as a last resort and showed the recently clicked photo of the rainbow on the miniature screen. The sobbing of the child stopped but the photo was no substitute for the magic of a real rainbow.
That night my family slept calmly and so did my child. I was lying on my couch ruminating over the day’s incident. Some faint memories took clearer form. I remembered how my father had once created a rainbow for me because I had insistently cried for a rainbow when I was a child.  He had arranged a big mirror and had placed the mirror at the bottom of a tub full of water to reflect the sunlight through the water. The reflected light while passing through the water produced the rainbow for which I was crying. He had created an artificial rainbow on the cleanly white-washed walls of our house. He even got the rainbow formed on my white shirt. I also remembered how the coloured bands of rainbow would shake when there was disturbance of the tub’s water.  
My father was great because he made me play with a live, pulsating rainbow that needed sunlight, mirror and water which were the real ingredients for forming a rainbow.  But I, as a father, ended my duty just by showing the image of a rainbow on the mufti-touch-sensitive-screen that understands commands like zooming-in and zooming-out.
It was late night. I switched off my mobile and threw it to a corner of my bed. My son was sleeping by my side. I looked at him and promised the sleeping child silently that tomorrow his papa would make a rainbow dance around him.

Thursday, December 25, 2014

THE EYES WITH STAR-SHINE



From the pen APN
 
It is a cold winter night and the mother is patting the child to sleep with all her motherly warmth. The sleepy eyes of the child are slowly closing down with utmost contentment because he feels safe and secure in the love of his mother.  The child looks like a little angel who is sleeping in pure peace, joy and innocence.  A world of many new dreams and hopes sleep in the child and the father prays the sunshine of God’s grace to make the child’s dreams blossom with the beauty of a smiling flower. Every night, the father and mother look at the little one together and renew their resolution to give the child the best parental care and love whatever odds they may face in life.

Both the father and mother feel great joy when the child utters a new word, learns a new expression, holds the pencil for first time, demands a toy or does something which they discover for first time.
But one day a so called quack came (who thinks that he knows a lot many things of everything). And he looked at the child’s eyes and declared superfluously, “From the eyes, I learn that the child has a weak brain. He should be given Chavanprash (of a particular brand) to correct the things.”  The words flew like an arrow and hurt both the father and mother at the most sensitive part of their hearts. The quack left the house and for a moment everything was silent. 

Now the child came running, held his father’s legs tightly demanding his father to lift him to the air so that he will giggle in joy while landing into his father’s lap. The father flung the child into the air and the room was filled with the joyful giggles of a little angel. Both the father and mother looked into the eyes of the child and could see that the eyes were the most beautiful things they have ever see and those eyes had the star-shine that shone brilliantly for them.   

Saturday, December 20, 2014

A PAGE FROM THE DIARY OF A STRIKER

From the pen APN
 
A fight/strike of five days came to an end. Our group started to crumble. Cracks widened into chasms and the central force could not hold us united. Financial pressure, physical strain, uncertainty of future and the thoughts of the family made us quit. We decided to give in. And by the evening of the 5th day we called off the strike

We were fighting for our self respect, for equal treatment and for safeguarding ourselves from social humiliation. So we had gathered on one platform and had raised our voice. But our wails practically had no effect on the slumbering government, insensitive passers-by and the egoistic bureaucrats. They deliberately ignored our voices till we broke under our own weight. 

A friend had to marry in a couple of weeks. A striker had an old father whose life depended on Medicine. Another friend dedicatedly served  to a callous master who sucked the cream of his life and left him at a cross-road with his two daughers and family. Simillarly, most members stood at the end days of their youth and at the beginning days of their oldage. 

However, they all fought valiantly. And in the dark ocean of fear and tear also they rowed their boats and pursued the faintest rays of hope. 

There may be danger and the dark clouds of apprehensions hung over head. But this is just a beginning and definitely it has an end which will soon come with the golden rays and a calm morning.