An anecdote. ------------------- From inside the temple the deity Hardly noticed him. The god remained frozen in his bronzed Posture With an assuring gesture. The stare from this man’s sunken eyes seemed to be lost. He was squatting on his homely pavement. The air was still heavy. Dusty. But the breeze was cool. I was on my morning walk. Not my usual route. Came this way For a change. His face was covered with grizzled beard. His chest was open. Through his tattered shirt I could count his ribs. In pocket I had a five rupee coin. No other change. I dropped it on his shaking hand Compassionately. Did he say something? He was mumbling. I heard it now, “Roti.”He repeated, “Roti” And returned my coin. I had no word to speak. Nodded meaninglessly And promised to myself I’ll return with a bun or bread. Met a long-lost friend. Hey, how are you, Long time no see. He said, ha, ha, This is the urban jungle. Our paths may be criss-crossing But we may not meet for once. Philosophizing, huh, How is family, how are children? Fine and yours? Fine too. We talked of weather, of politics, about cricket. Dhoni was superb. What do you say? India is shining. I mean Indian cricket. We parted promising that we should meet more. Returned home through a circuitous route. Had a busy day. Needed a cuppa. Liked the décor of this new restaurant. Shining front. Enough Parking space. Lazed over the steaming cup of black tea. A piece of delicious cheesecake. How is it sir, asked the waiter. Good. Tipped him generously. Then remembered. I had promised to myself to take a bun or bread To that man. Do you have a bun or bread? No sir. Down the line There is a bakery. I went there, took a large bun. Gave the baker that five rupee coin And a ten rupee note. The baker returned the coin. Sir, this is a bad coin, give me another one. The road in front of the temple was busy. Buses speeding in hurry. Harried pedestrians. The deity on his altar stayed composed. The priest seemed to be restive, Coming up and down the steps, looking outward. The footpath was empty. Where has this man gone? I must have asked the priest. For he said, Good riddance, spoiler of the show. Has been removed By the keepers of the law. Can you hear the siren? A red letter day for the temple. The first visit by His Excellency. The wailing siren seemed to be nearer. The bored policemen dozing in a corner suddenly woke up. Hey man, clear off. Clear off please. This is state security. As I was plodding down the road I noticed the other scene. At a distance inside a police van He was wilting between two portly keepers of law, Like a pathetic scarecrow. The bun felt heavy in my hand. It was not fresh, But I had bought it anyway. Now carelessly I dropped it into the garbage bin. Hey, good citizen, returning home? Called the neighbour. Why walk? He opened His car door. Hop in, he said with a friendly smile. Thanks. My car is parked down the road. This anecdote is told. (But the owl whispers, There is an Aristotelian scale of justice, Which can weigh the happy citizen Only against his equal! Ah, Good citizen, you always return home In comfort!) -----------------
Posted on: Tue, 24 Jun 2014 01:19:33 +0000
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