A boy named “Ladka”

Searching for a corner to relax the mental chaos in that new city, filled with remorse and suppressed emotions, I reached till the end of the lane and took a seat for sipping tea. Still lost in my daily words and rewinding the past to uncover what went wrong, I saw a boy with a broad smile on the face standing near me holding a glass of tea and he placed it with a keen look into my eyes. His presence melted my remorseful thoughts and broke the picture of past to confront the present. Observing him move to every table and pouring the tea in empty glasses and sharing that splendid smile.

Everyone there was calling him ladka and his response to the word was surprising, as someone is called by the name. I sipped it all and went to the owner and asked for the name of the guy and if others were trying to tease with the name. In a polite manner he said, even if they do, the auspicious smile won’t go. On inquiring more about him, he responded with a story of how he found him.

It was zero degree days of harsh and dry winters when he saw a boy sleeping on his contour in ragged clothes. He pushed him to wake him up and asked what was he doing there alone with no warm stuff on his body, the boy was cold and numb. He was offered a blanket and a cup of tea to get the warmth. He didn't reply to any of the questions but just to the word which became his name later. He observed me serving tea to the guests, washing the cups and started doing the same. Saying no him might have been inhuman at that time. When he came back finishing all and saw me smiling, the boy gave a surprising smile which has never been lost till now.

He spoke less but embraced all, spreading smiles with never ending zeal. The grace in his eyes was infectious and I took it with elation. The chaos and suppression just needed a gentle divine smile to vaporize. Being in present and simple was enough to avoid the cultured depressive attitude. 

My Grandma's Walker

Like an old snow covered mountain, meditating in deep silence with utmost peace and calmness, seasons come and go enriching the wilderness and bewitching it more. I was there after months seeing her getting more wrinkled and beautiful, her smile was serene and hands shaking while imparting blessings. She looked like old Buddha whose presence was enough to bring a gentle and pleasant breeze running over the body. Her thoughts were strong and knees weak, she would get up and bring something to welcome the children she loved. Her face reflected the pain every step would cause.

This time her walker was a bit different, some changes were done to hold a tray onto it, as both hands were busy in holding the walker. Whatever the pain could be, the love she holds would give her the courage to smile and do more. She was observing my silence which was tensed and eyes fixed to her steps. She is a mother of two sons and still she holds iron to support her, her cries were answered only when they get unbearable. She lost the strongest man of her life year ago and her journey became more annoying and heart melting. Life is just a survival at this age and can be torcherous too, this is like lifeless childhood when you intentionally forget everything to get rid of pain and agony that ignorance causes, you are cared by none, spirits diminish and thoughts get entangled.

She could hear the conversation I was holding to myself. Sitting next to me and holding my hand she said, this walker is a bigger support than anything else could be. It is always nearby and never says no to hold me and it gives me more freedom than I expected from my blood. It takes me far away from the negativity which was bearing when it was not here, sometimes material can support you better. The pain I bear is an experience that I will take away with me and no freedom and change can come without pain, so I enjoy that too. Life is too short when you try to suppress it but way too long thrill when you free yourself. Old age is an indication of life getting free from limits and boundaries. Yes I cry when I can’t bear more but it’s a part of life and important too and when it goes beyond, I get into the old memories of being a child running inside the house and it helps me relieve. Don’t let life put bad impressions on the memory, be clear and happy.

Her ageless experience could make anyone listen to her like a child observing her mother and the conviction she holds is timeless. May be old age makes one perfect in being self dependent, may be material and self are more reliable, her reasoning brought back the smile on my face.

Just a Minute Turban Man

I was high on the wheels, swinging with the wind which was cold and numb, the fog was dense and atmosphere queer. I was racing to reach on time, shivering but stiff, quick but alert. The path was clear to the distance I could see, even animals were hidden, scared, huddling each other for the warmth. The vision was directed by the rays falling down and lighting the path to run more.

A glimpse of something scattered on the road, may be a bike. I by passed it, giving no attention to what was there. Thoughts holding me back to see what was that, may be an accident and someone hopelessly waiting for the help. I paced up but lost to the thoughts which were trying to figure out the foggy scene. Hands working involuntarily to slow down and look back.  A man sitting on the road side with bike lying next to him.

I got down and moved towards the turban man who looked tensed, holding his head on his palms. Are you fine? I asked him. The furious face was visible, red eyes, filled with tears and throwing away the help with his angry words, go away, I don’t need anything, I am fine. I was more cold now and moving back was heavy and dull. I reached half the way and a heavy voice hammered my ear drums. I looked back and the turban man with a polite smile on his face said Thank you boy, I needed it. I reciprocated with the smile and moved away.

A simple thought of helping and caring can change the whole scenario. The turban man was an example of depressed life and a word of help changed his way in a minute. Be Human and help.

The Story of Maternity Ward

The anxious faces, trembling hands, craving eyes, all gathered outside the closed doors, hearing the loud cries and waiting for a new life to be detached and placed in their hands. The excitement to be a father was a thrill and with a deep breath she took birth. Obstetrician came out running with the quiet girl in her hands, pushing the anxiousness away and alerting everyone with her red face. The father followed the lady, almost running with her, the ward boy pushing him out. He could see the angel being placed in an incubator, oxygen mask put on her face, doctor thumping her heart and injecting the lifesaving fluids in her Nano thick veins.

The nervousness was rushing all through the body and the mother kept on asking about the baby, she is fine, a bit ill, you will see her soon, that’s what she was told. The father didn't move an inch away from the door, gazing at his daughter, praying in a low tone and salt water rolling down. Just waiting to hear her cry, nothing more was needed, the whole world stopped at the very moment and the prayers were answered, she took a deep breath and called her mother with a cry. He was on his knees now, never felt that happiness can way a make a way through cries and beating the death in order to live.           

Doctor came out with a divine smile and nodded her head. After three days with all tests going well he was allowed to move inside, not allowed to touch but seeing her from a distance. She was not the only one there, many beautiful and divine souls sleeping in complete silence. Every God in a different pose, sometimes moving the hands so gently as if to bless someone. The aroma there was holy and by no means one could think of leaving the room. He was elated and the incident broke the pattern of life he believed in and showed him the power of faith. For him the maternity ward was more like a temple and a life session.