A girl still in the Womb

It was late by an hour and I was impatiently moving in and out with my heavy bag, people fixed on the platform and no place to sit and relax. The announcement of getting more delayed and the screeching sound of the moving trunks putting the patience on the test. I thrashed my bag on the floor and sat on it, staring at the display board which moved the destination far.

I saw her looking at me, deep, penetrating eyes, expressionless, innocent face, like a devil veiled in face of an angel. She moved like furious winds shattering the silence around her, pushing away the people, eyes filled with rage and numbness. An old lady came running to her, grabbed her hand tightly and pushed her to sit on the ground and placed a milk bottle in her mouth.

I asked the lady about the girl, she took a deep breath and started the tale with her age. The girl was just three years old and born with some serious imbalance in brain. Her mother left her and eloped with a guy and father committed suicide. The old lady was her grandmother, who with little resources was taking utmost care of “Jeena” from her birth. The girl might never have a normal life, she had no senses of hunger, love and happiness. What she felt was fear, under the effect of which she moved furiously.

Isn’t it difficult to take care of her? You have no one with you to support and she is a big responsibility. She replied in a polite tone, what I do is nothing in comparison to what she does everyday. She could sense my tears flowing, my low mood, pain and loneliness and whenever it happens, she hugs me tightly and the moment she releases me, I am free. She is not a normal girl, I could see God in her. She can’t speak a word but we can sense each other through eyes and touch. She never cried but I can feel her caged inside wanting to come out and fly. My children left me in pain but she took it all without a word. She is the vision of my future.

The lady was an example of ineffable patience and love and girl a perfect human in herself. Sometimes silence is a big healer.

A Fig Tree who ate it all

Rooted in the most narrow lane and about hundred years old, the great fig tree which mesmerized even the animals to stay close to it, embracing a big area with its wide and open figure and giving shelter to thousands of birds. Considered as the most scared and home to seven figures Gods, not allowed to be planted in home and said to possess a divine power to make any wish come true, the tree was served like Buddha. The trunk of the mystical home was covered with red threads which holds the wishes of those who visited it and believed in its power. Everyday it hosted hundreds of devotes who surrendered themselves to the tree and placed eatables to charm the God which later was consumed by the stray dogs.

I went there with my wishes rolled in the red thread and a platter to lure the omniscient tree. Chanting the mantras to put more power in the thread and thoughts, I saw a small kid crying and staring at the food at the feet of fig. The boy lived in a hermitage close to the tree. I went down on my knees and asked him what he wanted, he pointed to the platter in my hand. I surrendered my wishes to the hunger of a child and fed him through my hands. His smile was much more than what I would have got through my wishes.

There is no other means of happiness in this cosmos than helping those in need. The tree didn’t demand anything, for it the platter was a big waste and the whole picture was a reason to change the thought pattern. Breaking the superstitious behavior and putting faith in humanity.