A remarkable display of trust and the offbeat imaginations amidst scorching sun at Doodpathri was at fore when Seerat, a colleague of mine dared plentiful customary inbox with so called judgment of other colleagues corrupted by different streams and doctrines by waiting for two little boys in the shabbiest of attires one could have ever thought, but within their grimy shirts, pure and pious hearts stunned everyone in the backdrop of congested meadows hand and glove with garrulous stream dancing and singing the song of its origin. late afternoon, the scenic beauty was making the occasion inimitable and apposite to pen down an exceptional script, meant to be scrutinized by sensitive minds alone and only; for the rest, her hanging around was inconsequential and foolish.
The words and sounds of the incident could only be sensed by those who profoundly rely on taxing own nerve when demand arises without second thought. A brawny resolution ‘litmus test’ so to say, not only to prove your self-belief, but to create a breathing space among reviewer whose magnifying glass knows no boundaries to put your belief on the razor edges, roughly chiseled before the human eye to defy their artless surveillance. Well! Thinking varies and varies considerably, as different craniums harbor different views according to ‘lived time’ experience, true at least for Existentialists as Sartre calls it ‘free organic individual’. Free to think and experience by breaking cozy cocoons of slavery of crude thought tossed into the thin air through pigeonhole philosophy.
Blazing sun, columns of dust, harassing humidity, traffic jam, crammed blind curves and the bumpy road leading to Doodpathri, a breathtaking ‘organic unity’, harmony of haphazard hills besides exhaustion one could only dream of a chilled bottle of water to refresh the tortured hills of mind. The dust was narrating flawed plots of a frustrated mind and the heat was encouraging one to think beyond the boundaries of spot, making and breaking a jinx of ugly situation. Seerat stood at the summit of humanity like a sage ready to deliver by sending two natives boys to fetch water bottles from the market after placing a hundred rupee note on one of the innocent palms without any iota of doubt, for they looked so gentle and supernatural. The elder one with a broad head and thin limbs was antonym of younger one whose head was small but stout limbs with heavy eyelids. Both had but a unique smile dressed on their crimson cheeks.
She was laughed at by her colleagues for her decision, but she kept saying: ‘I have faith on them, little angels can never deceive’. The statement was audacious and the faith behind this self-reliance was even gallant, she was swinging between the two poles of different hemispheres, a seesaw thrill, but her eyes never lowered in shame, her face was radiant like the burning sun, ready to dry any flexible clay to be profiled as masterpiece, worthy and treasured. ‘I have faith on them’ she kept everyone guessing and never looked dejected and barren, her fixed eyes had nailed a glimmering hope and she was encouraging her choice like a saint after submitting the humdrum expressions to experience intrinsic silence, more vital and significant than sophisticated coinage of worn out expressions. This piece of writing stands for courage and faith on one hand and a satire on the other because everyone around acted differently that is in any case true like Dryden’s characters: ‘Cut out but for a picture to the waste’ in ‘Absalom and Achitophel’
The sun was dipping fast, haze and dust in addition to humidity had different plans, entire area was taken into custody, the breeze were put behind the bars and we decided to depart, but Seerat hardly moved, she was gazing and repeating ‘ I have faith on them’. Just then a gentle gush of air soothed everyone and with that flow, the two boys appear from somewhere, Seerat smiled for her faith was singing the melodious song of her victory. The two boys came and stopped near her, slowly presented the bottles, their faces like those fresh water bottles were composed and serene.
She raised the bottles high in the air and celebrated a smile worth millions which only she could generate; others were only responding and reacting. The water not only soothed all but every drop of it was bountiful that quenched the thirsty minds besides inspired others who had dishonored the faith placed by Seerat. She succeeded in bringing million doubts down to dust, the kind of faith on unknown boys as demonstrated was an added enjoyment to the picnic which shall remain engraved deep into our hearts for years together. The moment was so big that even the boys knew the significance of their presence.
Poet and Fiction Writer. He is the author of “Feeble prisoner, “ Wings of Love” and many translation works are credited to the author like “ Verses Of Wahab Khar” and “ Songs Of Sochkral”
