Palpable presence

Impressions, imprints are etched deeply on a child's mind,

there are seldom things one leaves behind,

One such memory is of dad being a story teller & chronicler in spite of 

busy times...

Sharing one of his write-ups

It was a cold & freezing night. Head bent against the wind, he walked briskly on the slippery road. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a vague silhouette.

He stopped in his tracks & retraced his steps swiftly.

He was shocked as he came face to face with the huddled figure. He sat on his haunches & stared aghast at the emaciated face with sunken sockets, but strangely twinkling, sparkling eyes.

He did the first thing that came to his mind, put his arms under the grimy figure & lifted him up, struggling to make him stand. The bag of bones winced & muttered, “What are you doing?”

Just in that moment he realized that the bony, wasted creature had a broken back & paralyzed legs. He then cradled him in his arms & rested him behind a wall to protect him from the icy wind, that seemed to mercilessly blow, chilling him to the bone even under his overcoat.

With a flash & movement as quick as lightning he removed his coat & pullover & made the bony bag with unbelievably bright eyes wear it.

The man was weak & in a faint whisper refused to accept the warm gift & the gesture of compassion.

He raised his hand to the sky & said, “The message is being transmitted...leave me here, will see you again.”

The man continued on his way home in the chill, but a warm glow enveloped his being. He could feel the cold no more, he felt a sense of satisfaction as he looked over his shoulder at the figure swathed in snug clothes, his own white shirt began to glow as the first wisps of snow brushed against his ordinary white shirt & collected softly as he swung his legs briskly home.

He was now old and wrinkled of face but tough of heart, basking in the sun, he recalled the several summers & seasons that had gone by, almost as if in the blink of an eye. He reminisced the several encounters he had, had since that fateful night.

The bag of bones was called Babu, a potter by profession, having lost the use of his lower limbs to a near fatal accident. Times had been tough, he'd fallen on bad times but his resolve was unshakable. His faith in God was what kept Babu going.

The chance encounter with Babu had completely changed Dhiren.

Growing up in Himachal Pradesh in the small village of Bhanala, Shahpur  of  Nurpur, Kangra in the 1930s was nothing but challenging. Homes made of wood and kachha walls with sloping roofs had a quaint look which one often reads about in story books. Large families, simple living and high thinking were the only ingredients that youth ingested in the pre Independence era.

Back then routines were simple & days were punctuated with talk & actions of service. Needs were minimalistic & people were engaged in social & philanthropic work.

Then too, Dhiren led a Spartan life, guided by the principles of great people such as Swami Vivekananda. Education too focused on improving the plight of the less fortunate.
As he sat looking into the sunset, he reminisced about the days gone by & he felt a presence, an omnipresent glow, as if his deeds were indeed being guided by some overpowering force.

Just then he saw the gardener walking towards him & as they greeted each other, Dhiren said, “Where’s your bicycle?” The man retorted that it had been stolen. He stood up with some effort but distinctly resolute & shuffled into the house, a frail bent frame. He took a while to return & handed over three thousand rupees to him telling him to buy himself a bicycle. The gardener was speechless. Two days later the gardener rode to work on his brand new shining bike. Dhiren named it the black stallion & often urged the gardener to fly as fast as it would carry him in all directions that would get him more work.

He stood in the fading light looking at the birds returning home to roost on the trees that he had lovingly planted. He was more frail, more bent but with a soaring strong spirit. The gardener had grown older too, but his stallion was as elegant & royal as ever. It had been five years to this day. They both stood side by side trying to count the birds in the sky as they returned home and with a sudden & abrupt synchronization, simultaneously turned, looked at each other & smiled.

Many a troubled soul had he assisted and he often wondered whether he attracted people with angst ridden souls & the poorest of the poor, or was just the chosen one, hand picked to alleviate the suffering of others.

His family & friends were disdainful in the beginning, chiding him for indulging such people & lectured him on the flipside of helping others. He would remain unfazed, rather his desire to be a direct or indirect part of change was strengthened by such comments.

A neighbour who had moved in a few months ago often came over for a chit chat. He was quite appalled to hear of the splurging as he called it, on 'those people.’ Dhiren in turn would neither justify nor propagate, he would just say he does what he does, prompted by an inner calling. For him it was catharsis, devotion and love all rolled into one. A seamless connection with the Universe, a oneness of just being.

He often recounted his encounter with Babu and narrated it to those who cared to listen. Even though he had had several other experiences before and after Babu, he somehow continued to be the cornerstone of all that he planned or did in his life.

He drew an uncannily strange satisfaction from just the thought of him. As the years progressed and he travelled for work or otherwise Babu continued to be Dhiren’s inspiration. He carries him safely ensconced in his heart even today, long after he had transcended the mortal world, beyond the stars perhaps.

All his life he had tried to be as selfless as possible, inviting flak from all quarters but he toiled on relentlessly. Whenever he was besieged by doubt, he thought of the skeletal man he had saved on a cold wintry night & his words.

That gave him the courage to move on and made him experience the  omnipresent palpable exuberance of the Almighty. His silent wish and prayer with which he goes to bed & greets each day,  is to give him the strength to spread happiness & put a smile on the faces of the the less fortunate who come his way.

By Dharmendra Kumar