Sorrow is the texture of an old jeans. It sounds like the fans in an air conditioner, a constant reminder – always there. It looks like the bark of an old, withering, bitter neem tree. It tastes like curd – sweet and sour in equal measure; and it smells like a red chilli, in its sharpness and bluntness, bringing tears to your eyes.
So last night I was out with mom. As we were coming back home late night, we saw an old man, playing the flute. His clothes were in tatters, his eyes were down, seeing something, only he can see, with a slight smile on his face. As we passed by him, we realized there were three little children who were about to sleep in the cycle cart under the shade of the neem which stood proud by the side of the road. There was no crowd around him, which stood out to me.
Seeing that I felt happy. Is there a peace greater than that? There he was, not a shelter above his head, probably struggling to keep his children sheltered from the harshness of the life and he was playing the flute so beautifully to lull them to sleep. His children, as I gazed upon them briefly, had a content expression on their faces, their eyes almost drooping. They were not more than 9.
When was the last time you went to sleep content, filled with peace, inside the comfort of your homes? We work so hard all our lives, always worrying about the future. Maybe, every once in a while we need to stop that worrying. We ain’t getting any younger. Spend some time with your family, your friends, go have a long walk along the sea, gaze out at the stars. It’s the little things that matter and learn to appreciate them in your life. When was the last time you surprised your wife by coming home early or on time, instead of making excuses for being late today also? Go out with your friends who’ve been insisting you meet them for a cup of tea and talk. Work can wait. Over long run, it will not be enough. These are the moments you cherish.