CHILDREN OF THE EARTH, NOT SONS OF RELIGION

From dust is our birth

To dust, our destination

We are children of the earth

Not sons of religion.

The infamous face of communal violence has found a new home; our world, where it thrives and slaughters the same people who found him this home. Daily reports send shivers down my spine leaving me disturbed for most part of the day.

One such day, as I was strolling down towards Saraswati Mandir, I witnessed a sight that gave me new hope and a reason to write. I can vividly recall where my mind was then, as I was thinking that despite all its shortcomings, there are some especially remarkable things about IIT-R. Things that in the everyday confusion of our lives we choose to omit. One such beautiful thing is that the Saraswati Mandir and the Muslim Dargah are located across the road, perfectly opposite to each other.

It was about six in the evening, and the time for Namaz. A Muslim man, senior in age and rather devout in appearance, gently and reverentially stepped out of the Dargah. Dressed in a white salwaar kameez and wearing a Taqiyah, he seemed to murmur a last minute prayer in Arabic just as he turned towards the road. On the other side of the road, and at about the same time, the temple pujari, draped in an orange shawl and wearing a dhoti, stepped out of the temple gate. His lips muttering a silent prayer as his fingers played with the prayer beads. The pujari, as if noticing the presence of a friend, crossed over to the other side. The two men looked warmly and embraced each other.

“Jai Shree Ram, …. Ji! “, said the Pujari.

“ Jai Shree Ram, Panditji!”

“Aur …. Ji, kaise haal chal?”

“Allah ki dua se, koi musibat nahi!”

To this, the pujari joined his hands in reverential prayer and bowed his head facing the Dargah.

“Bhagwan ki kripa se, jo kuch bhi hoga, sab hamare bhala ke liye hi hoga”, Said the pujari.

“Aapki duaye hamare saath rahe, yeh hi hamari iccha hai”, said the man and smiled gratefully at the pujari

“To phir chale?” asked the Pujari

“Pehle Mandir chalthe hai”, replied the man.

Sometimes, the commonest of sightings, those that we take for granted, can contain the most significant and relevant of lessons for humanity; lessons that have the potential to save humanity from the poisonous influence of communal violence. Lessons that remind you, we are children of the earth, not sons of religion, God, after all, knows no religion.

Down Memory Lane

Pray! For it’s that time of the year again; when the smell of coffee evokes an unfounded belief that my mind is onto something productive; when the scattering of TBLS books and Xeroxed notes in my room invoke an eerie feeling of sleeplessness and despair.

And, as I flipped through the pages of these unintelligible notes, in pursuit of a ray of hope to sail me through, I couldn't help my mind from flipping through the poignant memories of R-land. On another day, in another semester, I would have refrained my mind from wandering. But, on this day and for what it’s really worth, I let it sail.

I stepped outside and looked all around. The fresh air seemed stunning. The colors of the sky, through my color-blind eyes were more vibrant than ever before. The crowds of people swarming the streets amazed me.

A simple conservation left me overwhelmed. Never before had I been so aware of the vibrancy of my surroundings.

Fleeting images made me laugh at myself; those little conflicts which now seemed so trivial. “I am not perfect, and neither are my friends, so why not make the most of it and pledge to forgive and forget?” Conflict resolution was never easier

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I guess the value of something is truly realized when it is being taken away from you. All those unexpected yet random chapos; endless, existential talks over bottomless cups of terrible coffee and the prized freedom from monetary responsibility will soon seem a distant dream.

Everyday sights and sounds were coming at me like a rainstorm. It seems difficult now to accept that only yesterday it was all so easy to get caught up in everything else and lose sight of these experiences. I certainly never appreciated the colors of R-land as I rushed to class every day.

   

A sudden thought then hurt me. This last semester, which was to have run out so slowly, was running out fast, and to-morrow looked me in the face more steadily than my quivering eyes dared look back. As these four months had dwindled away, to three, to two and now one, I had suddenly become appreciative of this place. Never before had I even considered expressing feelings of gratitude to the IIT administration, for all their harassing and red-tapism. But on this day, as the setting sun glazed the bright white dome of the main building, and the same sun light up silhouettes of the babus rushing hurriedly out of their offices, I shed a tear that painted a smile,” Thank You, for this journey would never have otherwise been possible.”

I stood there, waiting for the light of day to solemnly fade, as if to capture the moment and live in it forever. I had been so innocent and little here and all beyond was so unknown and great. In a moment I broke into tears, “Good-bye, oh my dear, dear friend!”

Charles Dickens had said, ‘Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of the earth, overlaying our hard hearts.’ I was better after I sobbed for I was sorrier, more aware of my ingratitude and gentler

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Pray then! For it is that time of the year again, but Alas! For the very last time.