Wednesday, 4 February 2015

The Other Man

Once upon a time, there was a flock of city dwelling birds. Every morning they would chirp and chatter upon trees, window sills, ledges of balconies and wires that webbed the city. They knew they would be fed for there were some godsend people who would carry a bag, off-white cotton cloth out of which each grain inside would impregnate an impression for them to see.

So, as the time bracket it was – the flock had blessing of two people who would sit all day on a bench taking out handful of grains at a time and splattering it all around on the ground till the last of it rolled out.

‘The One Man’ had the ripest and crispiest grains their beak could ever get. “The Other man’s’ grains could never ever match those yet they always tasted better. As the birds be, they never discussed or divided over this, they just came ate and flew.

Now, ‘The one man’s’ bag never went back empty for ‘The other man’ always folded it and kept it in pocket before leaving for the day. ‘The one man’ waited for the last of the flock, the greediest of them all to stay till the end and before it knew he would grab it and put it in his bag for the dinner he was going to have. ‘The other man’ went back with the thought that he would come back tomorrow again to repay the one who was feeding him every night.

Now, the flock was not that intelligent. They didn't have names, they didn't do the head count, they didn't look around to see if someone was missing.

So one evening when the flock was flying back to their destination they saw ‘The one man’ walking with a bag. It was not empty, although the sun was setting but they thought may be he was extra generous that day so they decided to visit him. As they descended down towards him, they saw that bag no longer had the impression of grains but a shadow of what looked like them. Each one saw a reflection of self trapped inside.

They no longer remembered the man who fed them each day; they were not worried for the next day that might not get them the ripest and crispiest grains they waited for. Even I don’t know what made them attack him – was it the love for the fellow of the flock or the anger for the breach of trust or the vengeance - for he was never seen in that city again.

‘The other man’ well he sat there everyday for the rest of his life. I don’t know what happened to him either but hearsay is he felt the wings of phoenix that encased him before it turned to ashes, to be reborn again.

I so wish…
~  The world was much simpler.
~  ‘As you sow so shall you reap’ worked for everyone.
~  The malice could be trapped and cornered that easily.
~  The world didn't divide over the judgement.The motive was not captioned as ‘symbiotic relationship’ or the bird deserved to die because it was ‘greedy’.
~  The world become more compassionate and thankful for what they have and gave it back selflessly.
~  Lastly, each one gets the death they deserve!

So, I wish…

Image Source : Google Images.

Sunday, 1 February 2015


A small boy in a tiny village in remote corner of the world decided to explore. So, he circled around his house; then headed towards the broken narrow dusty path. He was amused to see everything that came in his way. Finally he crossed the fields and stood midst a jungle. The sunlight played hide and seek through the canopy of tall trees. Then he saw something.

“A moving rock” he whispered to himself. The unusual oval shaped rock with an intricate pattern moved slowly. He went close and saw a pair of paws and a head peeping out for a fraction but before he could make out anything it went in and the rock was rock again.

Boy could not leave it there, for him it was a magic unwinding.

He carried it all the way home. He wanted to see what was inside. So he poked it with a stick, needled it with a twig, submerged it in water but nothing happened. He shook it up and and shook it down but finally sat down with a frown!

His grand ma was sitting on a side, watching his tricks and was getting amused.

“Amma, what is this?” he finally went to her to seek some wisdom.

“Kachhua” She spoke in hindi – “Yes a tortoise” She smiled.

“What should I do to see him come out” the boy asked

“Keep it in sun on the grassy patch and come and sit with me” she instructed and he obediently followed.

After sometime the boy saw the head coming out slowly. He started moving on his pace and the boy was thrilled.

“How did it happen?” he looked at his grandma. What his endless efforts could not do, she did it without doing anything.

“Give them a little space and warmth and they will open up” she smiled and the boy got a new friend ‘Kachhua’

Inside us there is a ‘Kachhua’ - Living in a shell trying to protect our self, refusing to come out if pushed or poked but with little space, little warmth, little trust and little compassion – we end up finding a friend for life.