The beautiful trees that I admired would be felled

It was the day before spring equinox. The sun was gaining heat and the onset of summer was felt. I was on my bike to a world famous pilgrim site (Gupteswar cave shrine) situated just 60 kilometres from my work station. The slender road stretched through the dense forest of Sal trees (Shorea robusta) and biking through it was a rare joy. The sunlit open sky was pleasantly obstructed by the canopy of the roadside trees and their shade was not only cooling the breeze but also invigorating the journey.
Now I was moving in the company of those tall and green Sal trees. Their calmness and stoic endurance were inducing the belief that God is present in all natural things. I loved my journey through those Sal trees. I was most over whelmed when I saw that almost all the road side trees were very neatly coloured with white and brown circles. These coloured circles on the tree trunks gave a godly look to each and every tree.
In my mind and heart I thanked the forest department for decorating those trees with so much care that it imparts such an aesthetic value to the journeyers. The intensity of gratitude grew so strongly that I stopped my bike on the way and gave a ring to one of my friend who works as a forest ranger in that area. I thanked and admired their departments concern to make the place so beautiful. But his replay to my admiration dumbfounded and hurt me like hell. He informed me that those marked trees will soon be felled under the upcoming road-widening project. Those trees are just the guests for few more days and their days are numbered.
And man’s insatiable greed is gnawing its teeth to devour the innocent, uncomplaining and life-giving shady trees for his sophisticated wide roads. But the irony is that the road will be soon constructed and more and more people will rush to their destination with all ease and comfort and at the same time man won’t know that such destination of ease is nothing but the valley of DEATH or DESTRUCTION. By the time he realises it, he would have very little to do in his hand.

The Little Angels of Uncle Shyam

His name was uncle Shyam. All children of the town were his friends.  He was a wonderful man who would love to spend his time with children like you. He had a flute and a beautiful garden around his villa. The garden had all the beautiful flowers and the most luscious fruits hanging from almost all branches. All types of berries ripened there. The green cover of grass with varieties of tiny flowers gave an uncommon beauty to the garden. The garden was meant only for the children. It was a playground for both the town’s children and for many colourful butterflies. The children would make all types of playful noises in the garden while enjoying their playtime.

It was a garden of innocence, pure joy and child-like simplicity.

Every morning uncle Shyam would spend his time in gardening and watering the plants. Every afternoon he would play beautiful tunes on his flute sitting amidst the joyous children. The children would circle around him. They would clap merrily while hopping and jumping to the tune. Some children would wander around the garden looking at the beautiful butterflies and the tiny birds. In short, the garden was like a heaven for the children. Although Uncle Shyam had none in his family, he never felt alone because all the children of his locality had coloured his life with their brilliant smiles and warm friendship.

It is a truth that children are like tender green plants which shine with immense possibilities. They make the world jubilant with new hopes. If the world is a big garden, then children are the most colourfully winged butterflies in it.

But one day Uncle Shyam became sad because some plants looked withered and dry in the garden. Now uncle Shyam was too old to take care of the garden as before. He loved the company of the children so much that he wanted to keep the beauty of the garden intact anyway for his lovely friends. But his advanced age had made him weak and he felt himself defeated. That day he also discovered that while playing the flute suddenly a spasm of coughing interrupted him and he could not play the tune anymore. For a moment all the children around him became silent and looked at each other. Little Bunty held the hand of uncle Shyam and led him to his villa. Little Bunty authoritatively told uncle Shyam to lie on bed and take rest. Uncle Shyam smiled at him and closed his eyes.

Next day when uncle Shyam opened his eyes the sun was winking at him through the glass window. He did not feel yesterday’s weakness. He heard a tune on flute and the playful noises of the children. He knew that it was not the time of the children to come to his place. He came out eagerly and discovered that Babli was playing uncle Shyam’s flute and some children were watering the plants in the garden, some other were sweeping and cleaning the fallen leaves. Everywhere he saw smiling children, smiling flowers, smiling trees, smiling birds and a happy garden. All the children came running to him and told “Uncle, we will make your garden more beautiful.” Uncle Shyam looked at the children and told, “This is not my garden. This belongs to you. The garden is just the beginning and together you can also make this earth beautiful. I bless you all my children.”

The sun was shining in the sky and the beautiful garden was beaming with happiness. A little bird in a tree asked its mother, “Can the little children really make the earth beautiful?” The mother bird told her little one, “Dear child, whoever comes ahead with a desire to help and love gets the infinite strength of God’s Angel.”

The wheel of time

A child points finger to this and that and looks at the elder. The elder smiles and describes the world around.

Slowly the child learns what a tree is, a cat is, a dog is, a bus is, a cycle is. And life sets off like a meandering river through an unknown dense forest.

By the time the elder disintegrates in the whirlpool of time, the child assumes the form of the elder. And life goes on.........

Time is a mighty wave that changes, evolves, annihilates and also creates.

Happy time, sad time, future time, past time, present time - so many dimensions and definitions of time can construct a chequered life and then assimilate everything leaving little trash.  We run with time and gasp for breath. We dreamily wait for a pinkish future time and move ahead reposing our all faith in the providence.

Our faith is in the mystery of time. So on the Sivaratri we light a lamp; we light candles before the crucified son of God; we face in the direction of the Kaba shrine and chant the prayer; we toll the bell in the name of Budha and meditate and wait till our time ends........

A MOON BREAK

The sun had sunk below the horizon and the birds had already sheltered in their nests. The wind was cool and so was the earth. The sky was enchantingly star-lit and the moon was shining in an unfathomable bright calmness.

The unsurpassed beauty was shining outside but a man was caged in the four walls, glued to the computer screen and straining the eyes, and cut off from the touch of nature.

His life moved with lightening speed on windows 8 or Iphone 5 or android but away from the healing closeness of nature.

Now the worry-stricken suffocated man came out of the four walls of his brightly CFL lit house. The house was brightly but artificially lighted. The outward shine of a swanky room did not nurture his inner being.

Now, he stood for a while under the open sky. He looked at the limitless sky and the beaming moon. The moon was kind to that restless heart. The silvery light of the pleasant moon fell upon him. The cool light of the celestial object acted upon his heart. All the cuts & bruises on his heart were healed. His inflated ego dissolved and he felt the soothing calmness of the shiny moon. He folded his hands to the silvery moon and realized that the warmth of uncle moon was next to oxygen when life was woebegone and miserable.

The moon was smiling and the tiny flakes of cloud were creating the ambience of heaven from the sky.