Take a walk
with me on these dusty lanes and be gracious enough to listen to the perverted
music of my heartbeats. Perverted, yes, that’s how it has been described by
many people for years and I have learnt to accept that description just because
I’ve understood that I don’t belong to these lanes. But have you ever noticed
that those who claim that they are evil are usually no worse than you? Has it
ever occurred to you that most evils are perpetrated by people who claim to be
good?
Look at all
those people who carry guns in hands and venom in hearts and persuade us to
believe that they plunder and rape and kill for the sake of the greater common
good. They have been doing it for centuries. It might have been the bow and the
arrow instead of the gun in those good old days. It might have been the burning
stakes or the gleaming swords.
This evening
when our shadows rise to meet us, you see terror in a handful of dust lying on
this very same lane that we walk on. The lane has seen much, endured much, and
longed to weep much.
Listen. Listen
to the sorrow of the dust. It is trying to tell us something. Is it trying to
tell us that the world is a dangerous place not because of the people who are
evil but because of the people who don’t do anything about it?
Is there room
for hope anymore? From the time of the Buddha who placed one good deed above a
thousand hollow words, through the man who died on the cross hoping to redeem
humanity from ritualistic creeds, to the Mahatma who was shot dead by the
hate-filled fanatic, haven’t we seen enough of hope?
Ah, it’s
getting dark and we need to return to the safety of our homes. The lanes are
dangerous. Let us keep hoping that light will descend on them some time.
PS. Written for
The post reads like a poem... flawless transition from one idea chunk to the next. But the best part is that your words go beyond just being a part of a poem. They speak the truth as it exists today. Loved reading it and enjoyed the expressions...
ReplyDeleteArvind Passey
http://www.passey.info
Thanks for the appreciation. In fact, Eliot was an inspiration as i wrote this. Fear in a handful of dust is his imagery.
DeleteBeauty of hope is that it never dies. Like a phoenix it rises from the ashes. Buddha is not an individual. Buddha is a state of mind. Each one of us can strive to become a Buddha. Our only asset no one can take it away from us. Well I am speaking of hope amid hopelessness.
ReplyDeleteHope springs eternal in the human breast, as the poet put it. Life would be quite unbearable without it.
DeleteIf only at least a few of us strove toward Buddhahood!