Pensive

Some days back I had been to "Maharshi Smarak". It is just around the corner of my college, a small but very proud building in stone. Old pitched roof on steel trusses and stone piers holding it up. The surrounding garden wipes all other bustle of life away… It is a place to remember him, the man who walked on this land with a vision of thousand years.
He believed and lived by principles way ahead of his time. And by his grace today I exist here. It is monument to Maharshi Karve the founder of an institution that has spread to educate thousands of girl students into brighter lives.
That day I just walked out of my schedule and decided to go there. Not many people visit the place usually. It is always secluded and silent. Cool stone texture touched my feet and I was home…for blessed once with this century’s old man I was home.
There is a small figurine of his. And next to him is the memorial of his wife, Baya Karve. She had insisted to have a tulsee (sacred Hindu plant) planted over her memorial. And there it stands reminding us the story of humble soul mates that changed the world.
They brought light to ignored corners of the world. They gave the best to the world that denounced and outcast them.
The Karve institute started with a small hostel school for girls. My grandma is student of Balikashram, the ancient hostel school of the Karve’s.
I feel a double stranded bond with this institute, as today I stand in front of the same man, part of his family widening everyday.
I am part of the generations that will always be thankful to him.
We thank him for the courage and honesty he lived by. We thank him for the compassion and strength of heart he possessed. We thank him for inspiring us and giving us the right nourishment and safety in our blooming years…. I love this old man who lives in us.
I left a pair of roses out of my bunch at the memorial...hope he knew what i wanted to say to him..... Give us your light so we can light up the dark.

It is so windy today. It must be raining somewhere. Cool showers splashing the all-day heated earth. It smells toxic! And the wind carries moisture of rains from distance. From the fragrant air anyone can feel the rain even on dry evening!
I love to watch the wind play with my planters. He brings so much joy and fun in their stationary life. He brings them news from the other corner of the world. He brings them the romance of the entire universe. They look happy when the wind blows through their willowy green spread arms. They dance and laugh with their leaves. The branches rise with the wind, tension in their thin green xylems. And as the wind goes away for second approach, they fall down, low and light. Then again the wind runs in making them dance with his rhythm.
You must watch their slow lazy fall after the breeze. It speaks of pleasure and pain, motion and stillness at once. There is lack of voluntary motion and there is request to the wind, to pour the motion in. The leaves talk to him, tell him to reveal his violence, to move the soft greenness, to dance with me.