It’s
birthday time for Jashan.
It’s birthday time for Anhad.
It’s birthday time for Ritali.
It’s birthday time for Christina.
It’s birthday time for Anhad.
It’s birthday time for Ritali.
It’s birthday time for Christina.
It’s
birthday time for Zeina Glo.
It
is time to feel.
Our
coherent thoughts are limited by words. The depths of the ocean seem to express
themselves in the rush over rocks, the endless journey of the waves crashes
against the cliff bank and makes roaring sounds; but the feelings are inside,
in the silent hum of the deep, in the surge and ebb and the rolling on, in the
endless expanse of noiseless feeling.
It
is time feel the beauty; to break the bounds of vision created by the
distractions of wealth and comfort and colour and light; to perceive the beauty
of the darkness which allows us to see beyond the limits of our sight.
It
is time to feel the gifts; not just the ones that we think we have, but the
ones we miss or the ones we disregard - the gift of poverty which throws up
helping hands and compassion, the gift of illness that gently eases out many an
idea of infallibility from our minds, the gift of death where we are thankful
for a loved one being spared suffering, the gift of uncertainty where we know
that we are lost and can come to terms with the surrender of being led.
It
is time to feel the wonder, to hold in awe; not just to stop at analysing.
It
is time to open our hearts to the footfalls of the Lotus Feet.
LOTUS FEET
They walked the sands before me; as travellers, soldiers,
farmers, shepherds, cowherds, weavers, tailors, carpenters, cobblers, thieves,
dacoits, princes, kings, dancers, consorts; as children. Rolling plain, icy
mountain, endless desert, deep woods; they touched. They blessed. Trees and
forests still stand in whose glades They rested, tethered Their steeds; lay
bleeding. Streams flow where They bathed Their wounds, springs where They
quenched Their thirst.
Baba, Guru, Lama, Shah, Fakir, Peer, Paigamber, Paatshah, Parvardigaar,
Messiah, Saviour, Gopal, Shepherd.
They walked. They sang. They walked more. Sand, sun, thicket,
thorn, river, sea, snow, wind, rain – all felt Their passing. They breathed the
air; and consecrated it with The Song Divine; as dusk darkened to night, and as
dawn lightened to day; as sun, moon and stars traversed their passages. The
fragrance of the air They perfumed lingers on till eternity.
They grazed cattle. They watered fields, They drank the water
from wells and tanks, They bathed in the streams. Rivers still flow that They
forded.
The water They sanctified is eternal in its cycle of
snow-rain-mountain-field-river-ocean-air-cloud-snow-rain…
Charan sparsh, kar sparsh, shwaas sparsh, vaani sparsh, nigaah
sparsh, khayal sparsh, karam sparsh.
I cannot sully the land They trod. I cannot poison the soil that
caressed Their Lotus Feet. I cannot contaminate the waters They drank. I cannot
befoul the air They breathed. I cannot spread disease where They spread healing.
I cannot sow hatred where They spread love.
Dare I contaminate the waves that carry the sounds of Their Song
Divine? Dare I defile the forest glades where They swayed and sprang in The
Dance Celestial? Dare I dishonour the trees in whose shady canopy They sat in
contemplation and banished ignorance forever?
Ahh! I had better give up the delusions of Me and Mine! I must
learn respect for the sanctity of Their legacy, for the blessing of Their being.
I must understand the value of the gifts They have bequeathed to me – blessed
land, consecrated water, untainted air, divine sound, pure thoughts.
Unclean thought, unkind word, unworthy deed would be a direct
assault; a desecration of the mercies bestowed.
I must walk in respect. I must drink in awe. I must live in
overwhelming gratefulness.
It is time to bask in Their radiance, to delight in Their cool
shade. It is time to dance, to rejoice, to celebrate the opportunity of walking
the path They enlightened.
