Tuesday, December 18, 2018
These days we find several posts that talk of the good old days where people were concerned about each other, shared each other’s joys and sorrows. The posts remind us of the child hood days when we were unlike the children of today, of parents who had time for their children, of strangers who were kind and helpful, where we had real friends unlike today where we have more virtual friends.
In short this comparison is to make us realise that people were good in the past and those days were the best days. And today people are selfish, youth are more self-centred, children are indifferent and rude, they don’t respect the elders nor do they have the helping nature that children earlier had. All that the youth, kids and even adults are absorbed into today is the modern day gadgets that keeps them occupied in a world of their own whereby they are detached with the real world and real people.
Recently I read a blog by Kelly flanagan forwarded to me by my niece and it set me thinking. The blog was about how kids have more to teach to us especially some lessons of life which we have conveniently forgotten smug in our self confidence and complacency.
He is right, I realised. We do have so much to learn from kids if only we take some time to contemplate. We, the older generation who tend to dismiss off today’s generation as ‘artificial’ beings. At the same time we also dismiss even the adults who have changed with the modern times and have become callous and selfish.
Early this year in the month of February, I lost my brother. He left behind 2 boys aged 14, 13 and a girl aged 11. The children were for some days numb with sadness and found a great difficulty in coming to terms with the death of their father.
However, the boys had several friends in the neighbourhood and these boys did their best to draw out my nephews and include them in their games. And on two occasions they also took my nephews out to a bakery and on another day to a tiffin centre just to cheer them up and treat them to their favourite dishes and snacks from their pocket money.
And the school management where they studied delegated a group of female teachers to come to our house to offer their condolences. And the teachers had brought with them a letter from the management offering their condolences.
The eldest boy studied in another school. And the director of that school, a young man was not in India but his parents came to our house to offer their condolences to my brother’s wife and his children. And when the director came back to India after a couple of months he waived off the fees for the coming academic year which was the last year in school for my nephew.
I realised people have not really changed. Or if they have, not all people, not all kids, not all youth have changed.
If anything has changed it is the perception, the circumstances and environment that forces people to become callous, indifferent, rude, selfish and what not.
I not only felt overwhelmed by all these actions of the people connected to my brother’s family but I went down memory lane.
I was maybe 11 when my father died. And apart from my class teacher who consoled me when I went to school after a couple of days, no one else did. No other teacher, no classmate or the management had anything to say to me leave apart coming home to offer their condolence to my mother.
However a kind lady in the neighbourhood took me and my little niece to her house and gave us chapati to eat and tea to drink. Though at that time I did not realise why she was feeding us. But now I do.
So have times really changed? Have people changed? Have they become good now? Or were they good back then? It isn’t really about time. It is about people. Time is only a concept we human beings perceive.
People can be good or bad whenever wherever they want. It has nothing to do with times then or times now.
Time changes, it cannot be constant. So do people, either for good or for bad. You cannot escape change but you can certainly decide how you want to change.
Sunday, July 8, 2018
Something light drifted and brushing my cheek fell down in my lap. I took the small white flower gingerly and smelt it. It smelt wonderful nothing like I had ever smelt before. I looked around in astonishment as there were no flower trees around. And then another flower floated down. This one was different. Even as I was admiring the beauty of this one many flowers began falling. I got up from the roadside bench and looked up at the sky. There were huge clouds looming and something magical from the clouds was happening. IT was raining flowers!!
I looked around in utter amazement. The pavement was covered with flowers of all shapes, colours and sizes. Some familiar like our roses, lilies, jasmine, marigold, chrysanthemum, lotus and many whose names I did not even know but strongly felt that these were flowers not of the earth but of the heavens. For they not just looked exotic but also smelled heavenly.
The air was filled with a delightful perfume and the land with flowers. Everyone around me were as amazed as I was. But soon everyone began picking up the flowers and filling them up in their bags. Every one present there had become a child in their enthusiasm and joy at the magical wonder.
Many rushed in their houses and came back with baskets, bags and anything they could find to fill the flowers with.
I too began filling up my empty grocery bags. Thank God I had not yet reached the store and had paused to catch my breath on the bench at the pavement.
I was already thinking of decorating all the vases with fresh exotic flowers and make bouquets with the remaining ones. And just as I was thinking of various ways I could use the flowers, it stopped raining.
And there we were all of us with arm full and bag full of flowers still unable to recover from the magical rain.
People now began chatting animatedly about what they were going to do with the flowers. I am sure many would want to sell them to the florists because these were flowers no one had even seen in this side of the town. While those who lived nearby must have collected flowers in tons and wanted to sell them to the perfume maker while someone wanted to export them!!
I looked around and there were no flowers left on the ground. Every single flower was gone. As if there was no flower rain. Why even the stray animals had a taste of the flowers. They were feeding on them.
I walked home wards with my three bags full of flowers. I was sure everyone in the town had collected these flowers.
I know we would talk about this magical rain not for days or months but years together and pass on this amazing story to our future generations.
The flowers stayed fresh for a week. And then later the decomposed flowers were used as compost for our kitchen gardens.
‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for
Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’