This was a regular Sunday morning, full of laziness and sleep. As usual the day started little late. I think you all agree with me that a perfect Sunday morning is a romance with coverlet and laziness of sleep in a same time. Not only body but also mind cherishes to play with sleep on this very day. But I had one crucial appointment. Actually it is not an appointment it is a sincere round on the ancestral path.
So I threw away my laziness and coverlet at the same time and readied my self to meet the past. Yes, some places have something within…something special; you name it spiritual aura or some magical enchantment; whatever you wish. Our native place is just like that. A small village about ten kilometers away from our centurian old home a simple temple with some transcendental feel within, Something other than its appearance, Something beyond explanation. I always feel a deep touch of solace whenever I give just a thought to it.
Not only the place but I love the path which follows to that place. It is a small concrete road snaking around the farms filled with greenry. I saw some farms with bright yellow mustard flowers- glistening in the golden aura. It was breathtaking scene. But today the silence of farm was broken by the colorful villagers. This was a rustic fair with roadside venders with balloons golbbled up in dust.
Anyway I was there at 11 in the morning. The whole place was packed with colorful villagers. Even the parking was badly packed with the vehicles. I parked my bike and the first thing that I listened was the shabad “Mera mujh main kuchh nahi Jo kuchh hai so tera” means I have nothing mine in me all in me is yours. And the first thought that occurs to me was how selfish we people are . . . We always find a sophisticated yet self seeking chat from Him. We never understand what God is telling with His simple ways. This was the effect of that place – one feels detached with one’s present and experiences the holy string bound with Him. How simple He is…How simply He shows and showers His Love…I wonder…!
That reminds me a story written by Amrita Pritam.
Years ago, a simple saint lived in the outer skirts of a village. People always praised him for his simplicity and unselfish behavior. He never asked for anything from the villagers. The villagers gave him food for his daily need. That was sufficient for him. One day a young girl of that village gave birth to a child. When her family and the other villagers forced her to reveal the name of the father of her child, first she refused and after being pressurised hard by everyone she raised her finger on that saint.
People got angry and went to that saint with that new born. The father of that girl handed over that child to him and said,” this is yours”. Saint didn’t answer any of their questions but said “Oh this is mine. . .”and took that child simply. But he had nothing to feed him. So he went to the every house of the village to beg milk for the infant.
People were so angry that they didn’t open their doors. After wandering all around the village he reached at that house where the lingering mother of that child was living. She didn’t tolerate her child’s cry for milk and she rushed to him. When her father and other family members stopped her she started weeping and said that saint is innocent. I said his name only to save the real culprit. Her father, drenched in guilt,fell on the saint’s feet… He took the child from him and said,” he is not yours so there is no need to look after him anymore. Please give me the child and forgive us”. The saint gave him the child simply and said, “Oh this is not mine.”
This story touched me deeply. Can we become as selfless as that saint? Can we take everything causelessly and then return it simply? Why we relate everything with us as ours? Why can’t we
say satiatedly that this is not mine???