I was driving to work when I saw a young man lose control on a motorcycle and fall in front of my car. I stopped the car spontaneously and went motionless in my driver seat. I didn't attempt to get down from the car, because I can neither pick up the bike nor the man and cause several sets of eyes parking on me, as those acts are unladylike. Unfortunately one thinks about conformity even during situations that demand personal attention. Then I saw a youngster in bright yellow shirt running across the road to the motorcyclist, not bothered about the zooming traffic on the other side of the road. He instantly lifted the bike and the man on the road. He was the first to arrive followed by few more, an auto driver and another motor cyclist. We the people going in the cars, none of us made any attempt to get down, except that I was little more patient and did not cross the motorcyclist and move on, while my fellow drivers did so. My patience did pay me back at least in terms of churning up my own thoughts.
I kept looking at the yellow shirt boy. He must be less than 20 years of age, had middle parting with long hair and pushed his hair now and then in a stylish motion. He must be one of those living in nearby slums attached to the road and this must be his regular place giving him the “responsibility to act”. His face looked serious with certain energy. He was totally attentive to the work he is on, and did not bother to look any other side. I tried looking at his eyes though they were lowered concentrating on the job in hand. I did get a glimpse on during one of those brief moments he lifted his eyes. I liked his eyes. They reminded me of another set of eyes I saw just a couple of days back. They were Bhoopals's mother’s eyes. I started the car and left the place in a brighter spirit and that feeling lasted for a long time even after the episode.
Few days back Bhoopal called me and asked me to come for Mohharrum in the village. He had been asking me to come for Mohharrum since last three years but I have not been able to make it. This year I decided to go and landed in the village around ten in the night. Mohharrum activity starts only at midnight and so my timing was perfect. However, Bhoopal's family was unaware of my arrival and the house was totally dark. I stood up in front of the house wondering what to do. But Bhoopal's father who was sleeping under the tin roof outside the house, woke up and said, “who is that”, I responded to him saying “I am Rajeswari” and moved towards the entrance along with two other youngsters Ananth and Niranjana who were accompanying me during this visit. By then Bhoopal's mother and sisters were up and the lights in the house went on. We all sat in their hallway filled up with bags of grain, a table with two laptops, and lot of wires that were wiring the laptops, two chairs and an inverter converting DC power from solar photovoltaic to AC power. It was biting cold in the house with tin roof on the top. It is a small room measuring 8 feet by 10 feet and six of us were sitting there and eventually all of us slept in the same room. Bhoopal was away at a wedding with his video camera and was expected any time. We spoke joyously for some time, as apparently all of us were happy with the reunion after six months. I introduced Niranjana and Ananth to them and Bhoopal's sisters recognised Niranjana immediately. Niranjana is doing her PhD on ICT for Rural Development and visited COW project and Bhoopals's family earlier. I introduced Ananth who wanted to work with me to get a perspective on rural development, which is hopefully little different from the contemporary development models. Bhoopal's father Mohan Reddy showed me the silver ornaments they made on my behalf to decorate Mohharrum gods. I said they are beautiful and caused happy smiles on all their faces. I started to appreciate the cultural fabric of Bhoopals village ever since I went there to work with the people. For me having faith in people in easier than having faith in god. People in the villages have faith in god and it comes naturally to them to include people like me in their worship processes and I have learned to appreciate that.
We all went to the village square to see the bonfire and the music and dance. We paid our respects at the masjid before we were taken on to a terrace from where we could view everything nicely. There was no parapet wall and one could view the dance from close angles from the terrace. It was biting cold unlike near the bonfire though we were not too far from the fire. All men were holding arms in a circle going again and again with the same rhythm and steps. I got tired of watching after a while and my body started to refuse to sit straight after a long day's work and travel. I lay down on the plastic mat there and slipped into sleep only to be woken up by a heavy blanket falling on me, and being tucked in nicely around my neck by two thin hands. I opened my eyes to see Bhoopals mother bent over my shoulder. While we were coming to the bonfire the girls insisted on getting a blanket because their mother had fever all through the day, and she was covered even when I went to sleep. I got up and insisted she takes away the blanket and uses it for herself. She said “you were not well for two months, Bhoopal told me, it is too cold, and let it be”. It took sometime for me to convince her to take the blanket. Finally with great reluctance she took it back. I looked at her face. Her lips were smiling and her eyes were looking at me. There was special communication in her eyes. I thought it was that of affection.
However, two days after coming to Hyderabad and experiencing the feelings attached to the accident on the street I started to ponder over the communication in both of their eyes. There was a special quality to the eyes of Bhoopal's mother and the yellow shirt boy. I think it is purity from any motive that comes out of a sense of 'giving' that both of them exhibited in a natural spontaneous way. There is a favorite line in one of the religious books I read that says 'those who care for others without a motive are truly civilised'. Giving is often correlated to tangible things, but the only thing anyone can give the other is emotion and if that is pure without greed it becomes a spark, brightening the light of peace. Peace in turn is capable of resolving conflicts and negotiating union than division. Interestingly this whole thing is not as abstract as it sounds and all of us are capable of it. Peacemaking generally is understood to be between countries, states and conflicting populations. We are blind to the role of ordinary people who contribute to peace in our day-to-day life, beginning with mothers in every family. They make our days brighter and nights tranquil. I think there are several peacemakers in our day-to-day life, who are willing to contribute to a better world out of their generosity in a simple and humble way. But why can't nations and states do it, is it because they lack the capacity to 'give without a motive'. I actually don't know, may be it is much more complex than I think. However, one point is certain, the crisis of today is that of lack of willingness to give, independent of what we might or might not be able to give. It requires courage to listen to inner self and break from conformity to develop compassion and ability to give. It is tough business to develop compassion especially in a world that is filled up with uncertainty, of not only food and resources but also basic existence. The only way to reduce uncertainty is by giving and one can give only when uncertainty reduces. It is certainly a difficult situation for all of us, but there are several yellow shirt boys and thin-handed mothers to show us the path, but are we ready to perceive and listen?? Let me leave it at this point and wait for someone to add on...
