The world is making rapid strides in the field of science and technology. At the same time, there is large scale confusion and conflict prevailing for the teeming millions. The most palpable manifestion of the problem is both at the material and pscycological level. Next come all the health concerns.
On whatever ground the issue may arise, if a man learns to witness it as a third person by not attaching to it, he remains happier and at peace with himself.
And that is what I am trying to do nowadays.
My mind constantly keeps brooding over the past or thinking about the future.
I seldom experience a "no thought flow" state. Let me explain this with an instance.
When I went to my native home couple of months back I saw the portrait of my mother that was kept on the loft. I stood there by for some time reading the lines written below by my dad.
"Memories of the ones we have loved
still cast their gentle glow!,
To grace our days and light our paths
Where ever we may go !"
I recalled in a flash the big bundle of past memories that were filled with the turmoils my father had to undergo long years back, when she was hospitalised for a dysentery and weakness, injected with a Hepatitis -B out of negligence, to cover up the blunder blood transfusion was given, with a mismatching RH- Factor!.
The sudden extreme scream combined with fits after few minutes of the transfusion rented the air at the hopsital !!
My father rushed to the chief doctor to save his wife, knowing not that the borrowed times of his beloved were almost getting over by the next day.
The sad day beckoned with all the relatives gathering around her, but only I was taken closer. For some minutes the sickly twenty-three year old young lady did not speak, tears alone kept rubbing her soft cheeks. She heard an assurance from her sister who was just sixteen and to whom I owe gratitude in abundance.
"Don't worry dear, you will be alright, I will take care of the baby."
The doctors were busy preparing a new case history falsely reporting the pile pigments to be positive with a fatal jaundice. They threatened my father saying the body will not be handed over for rituals in case my father would ever try to sue. My father said ,"I don't need a court anymore, to punish you. Its too late,"
He demanded the original reports and got them.
The very next morning when my father went to collect the sacred ashes,
he heard from the guard ," what happend to that woman sir,? Did she drink any poison?" on finding the bones blue.
My faher said," She did not drink poison, but the medicines were.!" and walked away broken hearted.
While I was gazing at the portrait with the tear -filled eyes, the smothering of my spongy pet brought me to the present. I shrugged off all those thoughts and started playing with the pet.
I do not miss her in my life at all and have never have felt am mother less. I saw her as a living being - whose life was taken away by the deadly doctors.
How much that body would have suffered due to pain, and fever? What all the small heart would have felt at those tumultuous moments? It was a medical murder and I am sad even now of what happened then.
The tragedy ended there, but I still carry forward its impact in my thoughts. I feel I need to work to get over this.I should learn to witness the uneasiness as a third person , like letting the silts float in the water and not trying to attach myself to them and capture.
Two things I notice now. No emotion stays with me for twenty - four hours. And it is typical nature of the mind to brood over some past or think about future,without experincing anything in full. Silently chuckling at this monkey nature of my mind, I just chanced upon these lines of an anonymous poet
"A tiny pebble idoly tossed
Into the placid stream.
With a gentle splash it sinks from sight
And never again is seen - but outward
From the gentle splash a spreading impulse tends......
Who knows on what distant shore the
Spreading inpulse ends..."
Nothing is certain except for change and everything is pre-determined. To make me realize the power of this truth, those memories knocked at me .
Knowing I shall filter any unwanted mail, or report as spam if I don't want it, they cleverly choose to be postmen always, trying to convey some information.
Unless I lovingly welcome them, they keep knocking. :)
I happily relish this truth.