Random thoughts - Let go

It was only 630 AM on a Sunday morning.

"Is it still this early?" I wondered. I had my first tea of the morning already, browsed through the newspaper and was done with my morning ablutions. All my ritual for the morning was complete yet it was only 630 AM.

I attempted a second browsing of the newspaper in hope of finding something interesting that would make me pass some more time before the kids and wife woke up. The news was usual. Corruption all over, yet a host of advertisements beseeching you to buy something that its makers promise they have built with complete integrity and sense of service. Commerce with them is the anti-dote to corruption they seem to be saying. 

"But why would I trust you enough to buy something over a phone call - even if you are offering 90% discount keeping in view my well being - when every other real news item is screaming of the corruption that seems to have woven itself into the fabric of our society?" I convinced myself that there is no point believing any of the advertisements. They are all corrupt including the guys who write the editorials and op-eds about corruption, I thought. Their news and views smack of some dark allegiance to some budding corruptionist who is out to destroy the fabric of this country even more, I concluded.

I stepped out of the house, gingerly so, making sure I caused no disturbance to the rest of its inhabitants. "I will find a wandering neighbor with who I can chat up for sometime about the goings on in the apartment and country". How about staying in the house and mull the goings on inside it? But that is way too close to my own aptitude and actions so it is better to wonder about the world and its ways, I thought. I convinced myself that I am made to solve the bigger problems of this world than a mere speck of it that has been packaged for my own self. 

There were no wandering neighbors of course. It was too early for a Sunday morning for them to be strolling the corridors of the apartment complex looking for kindred souls. I looked around for some more time and then set out to explore the roads. The railway station road is sure to have a lots of people at this time or anytime of the day. I started walking towards the station even as I contemplated the topic of corruption sold so well by the newspaper I read in the morning. "It is all relative, corruption is. The corrupt people do not seem to mind all the allegations made against them. Their system is made up of elements that define corruption as something else and not what they have been doing. In the pictures of the people who are allegedly corrupt and those who exposed them, the corrupt seem happy and content while the catchers seem angry and greedy for adulation" I thought. I tried hard to come up with a definition of corruption that could be cast in stone so the corrupt could at least look repentant. "The extent of infidelity with your own consciousness is corruption" was the closest I got. But then each one has his own definition of what is consciousness and therefore the definition of corruption will become relative again. What else could corruption be? I needed something that was rooted in the soul and not in the society. "It is the extent of fidelity with the supreme consciousness of God" sounded better but hollow because now it has an added vagueness in the form of God. I gave up.

Songs and sermons were filling the otherwise quiet surroundings of the street leading to the railway station. "Why does everyone feel compelled to put their religion out on the street? How does it matter if you do not say out so loud the path to salvation?" Spirituality and Religion have become the jeans and T-shirt for the man of the world. "Flaunt them so you are perceived differently and valued as someone with a larger purpose in life than handling the situations coming out of a mere microcosm at home" that seems to be the reason for performing in public the supposedly private soul cleansing acts. "Everything is done so we add value to ourselves - in cash or kind". 

I stopped at a roadside magazine store that also sold newspapers. These are the shops that must be open at this time for their relevance. I thought of a recent article of mine that some magazine published. "Does that magazine exist in real stores like this or is a mere prop for some other business of its owners?" I wondered. I inquired with the shopkeeper. "Never heard of the name" he replied between the many busy transactions of dispensing a multitude of newspapers to his eager customers.Why do they bother with sad and bad news first thing in the morning? Difficult to fathom the ways of hope.

A persistent old beggar kept asking for one rupee as I strained myself looking for the magazine that carried my article while also trying to grab the attention of the shopkeeper. "Please help me with a rupee so I can have a chai sir" the beggar kept asking me. "Why is he asking me alone when there are so many others at the store" I was mildly irritated. "Could you please tell me if you have the so and so magazine" I was asking of the shopkeeper. I was begging for recognition and the old man for a coin. Neither of us won.

I walked some more. What if I come across one of those rich acquaintances in an expensive car who normally find it below them to walk around a railway station? I tried to think of a purpose to this random wandering so I can be seen as someone with an eclectic taste for things. "Let me go buy some tea powder from the old and well respected shop that sells exotic tea powder" I decided. Somehow associating my aimless walk with that high social task has lent respect to myself in my own eyes. That connect made me confident and I could almost feel myself becoming an observer from the participant I was all along the morning. "I am only looking for a story to write while I look for some exotic tea powder" - that seemed like a perfect excuse to convince people of my own uniqueness and social standing at the same time. No such eventuality, however, took place. I neither found the tea powder nor a rich acquaintance.

I stopped at a cafe that sold good tea, or so I was conditioned to believe in any case. As I sat in the midst of strangers waiting for my cup of tea, I thought of the old beggar. All he wanted was a rupee and I was too busy to even satisfy the simple request of a fellow being. I felt ashamed of my behavior and lack of sympathy that prevented me from finding potential answers to so many questions I had about corruption, religion and society this morning. "Let me go out and look for the old man" I decided as I finished the tea. I will pay him that one rupee now that I have some small change. 

I went back to the magazine store but he was not there anymore. I looked in the by lanes and peered at every old beggar on the street. I saw him only for a very brief moment at the store but somehow the impression of his kind face was etched in my mind. I was sure to recognize him if I saw him again. 

He was not to be found.

Niren