Before God we are all equally wise - and equally foolish. Albert Einstein
Thunder was rumbling. The winds blew strong that the roots struggled to hold themselves together. The dark clouds paced so fast that it was dark before it had to be. The trees let the pale leaves wither away. The dust clouds blinded the sights.
The whole village shut itself down within minutes. The outskirts witnessed the rhythmic Tandav of swirls of winds uplifting the ground and scattering it all over. The branches recklessly played the music inviting the droplets to come down and join the carnival.
Soon came the down pour and the chadar on the mazaar was drenched. Rahim sat in the dark in his cottage watching the downpour; the beads were churning in his fingers. His prayers were anxious. The train of thought was suddenly broken by the loud banging on the wooden door. A man stood there drenched in hope of some shelter till the Mother Nature calmed down.
Rahim had nothing much to offer except for the space. But it was much more valuable than he knew.
“It is pouring as if it will never stop” the man spoke. Was he anxious or needed some conversation to distract himself; Rahim was not much interested. His beads were moving with the same pace.
Another knock and two more strangers entered the cottage. Rahim silently stood up and lit the lantern and hung it with the wooden frame of the thatched roof which had given the peeps to the droplets and the muddy floor had now few wet patches. Now Rahim was not needed for the conversations.
A soft knock brought the silence back to the cottage for a moment or two. A boy lost hoped for same thing everyone else inside had. He silently placed his black umbrella on a side and found a corner and sat there to accumulate some heat.
The knocks and banging were not stopping. Soon the cottage was filled with people more than it could accommodate. Everyone stood near each other, comforted by warmth yet hoping for more.
“Will it ever stop?” finally an irritated voice was overheard between some inaudible murmurs.
“No…it will not. Not unless…” Rahim finally spoke. His words got immediate attention.
“What?” the incomplete sentence created curiosity
.
“You will not believe.” Rahim surrendered.
“Try us” he was provoked.
“It is said, that whenever an impure soul passes through this mazaar, the rains and thunders stop him from entering the village. That soul shall be punished. The roaring thunders are waiting for that soul to surrender before them.”
“You mean to say that there is a devil in this room.” A coaxed voice glorified the the meaning.
“I am no one to say that. It’s his justice. He sees innocent souls in here, and so the cottage is still intact. He has the power to burn us all but that won’t be just. But I know something; this will not stop till…”
“Till…”
“Till the sinner surrenders before the will of almighty.”
Rahim opened the door which withheld the cold wet winds.
“I am going there to offer myself. Let him decide the innocence and devious. Surrender for the well being; surrender to end your sufferings.” He stepped in rain, went to mazaar, bowed as if waited to be punished if he was guilty and then slowly took shelter under the banyan tree on the side.
Everyone in the cottage saw. Another man stepped out with trembling feet, bowed down but the thunders stayed in the sky. He took a deep breath of relief and paced back to the cottage. One by one every man gathered the courage and bowed down before hoping not to face the wrath of fury.
The cottage was now cold; every single man, willingly or unwillingly in that cottage had surrendered himself for the village. Yet the thunders were roaring up high.
“Everyone has been there” one spoke puzzled.
“Not everyone” another spoke hinting the corner of the cottage where the little boy sat shivering with cold. The silent nods made a unanimous decision.
The boy stepped out in rain; trembling and shivering. He struggled to keep his umbrella but the winds snatched it away. He himself could not understand the difference between tears and rain on his face. Finally he reached the mazaar and bowed down, waiting for the wrath.
The thunders sparked, the lightening traveled and the sinner was punished. The sky silenced and rain drops filled the silence.
Rahim’s chants were now audible. He was about to complete the round of beads. He knew inside the judgement was done but every prayer gathered the courage to accept it. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the little boy still bowed down before the mazaar and his cottage glowing the dark with the flames more powerful than the rain.
When I was young, I had requested this story to be told time and again. Somehow I was always so occupied in understanding the story then, that I never asked what was it trying to tell.
The almighty; The nature – Some believe anything, Some believe everything and some believe simply nothing – But they do believe in believing. Nature has the power to create, nurture and destroy, as metaphorically depicted by the gods, making concept easier to understand for anyone. We can worship it, fear it, hate it, despise it but cannot neglect it. At times we are unhappy, we feel miserable and we stop counting our blessings. Oh! What worse could happen! It couldn't get any worse than this! – Do we challenge someone when we say this? Or stop seeing the good left with us. And at times we ourselves push away those good things. When those blessings fade away we feel the sufferings we were shielded against. Live life, count your blessings, be thankful and stay blessed.
