This was the most beautiful flower

The park bench was deserted as i sat down to read,

beneath the long straggly branches of an old willow tree,

Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,

For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day,

a young boy out of breath approached me all tired from play.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down,

and said with great excitement : look what i found !!

In his hand was a flower , and what a pitiful sight,

With its petals all worn down  , not enough rain or too little light.

Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,

I faked a smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side,

And placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise,

It smells pretty and its beautiful too, thats why i picked it, here its for you.

The weed before me was dying or dead,

not vibrant of colours , orange , yellow or red.

But i knew i must take it or he might never leave

So i reached for the flower and replied: just what i need

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,

 he held it midair without reason or pain.

It was then that i noticed for the first time,

that the weed toting boy could not see,

he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like sun,

as i thanked him for picking the very best one.

You are welcome he smiled and then ran off to play,

Unaware of the impact he had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see,

a self pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.

How did he know about my self indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart he had been blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child at last i could see,

The problem was not with the world, the problem was with me.

And for all of these times, i myself had been blind

I vowed to see the beauty in life and appreciate every second thats mine

And that i held that wilted flower upto my nose

and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose.

And i smiled as i watched that young boy,

another weed in his hand

about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.........

                     
                                    “The speaking tree”

                                      The times of India

Facade

She was sitting in the office trying to hide her grief behind an unconvincing smile, wishing people a happy new year. People poured in her office to wish her a very happy new year, her eyes welled up in tears and she blinked faster to prevent them from showing. Wondering at futility of wishing happiness for someone she thought , how elusive it was.

 Questioning the ways of the world, questioning the ways of God ,she sat staring at the walls thinking why was she chosen to go through the worst crisis of her life alone and vulnerable on this day when the whole world celebrated the coming new year……………..what was her mistake and if not why was she suffering………….

Her office has run short of space for keeping the bouquets and her table is filled with diaries and calendars, her mobile has not stopped ringing, her inbox Is  full of messages……………..her outbox contains just one message and every time her mobile rings she hurriedly picks it up expecting ………………may be he would wish her too, ………………….and again someone walks in and salutes and wishes her and again she puts on her façade , façade of happiness…………

The journey

                                    

An army of personnel consisting of one driver , one gunner ,one man on telephone duty, two followers and a homeguard , a house ,an esteem car with a blue beacon light, all waited for me as I took charge as SP city Agra. Scenes from my past flashed in my mind……………

It was pouring so heavily that roads looked like drains, the tree branches were stooping with the weight, I and my sister  were waiting for the army truck which took us to school when the phone rang and one of my classmates informed that the DM of the district  had declared a holiday because of the rains……….

As I grew up i  was made to  understand that the civil servants are the steel frame of the country. When asked in the interview why civil services I had proudly told that I believe this the only service where one has direct interface with people and one is in a position to deliver immediate justice to them  where u make a difference in the lives of the people and make a contribution to their well being.

i realized as I grew into the service that “ immediate” will be as immediate as the babu in the office wishes.

I was signing the “daak” in the office ,for the non bureaucrats I must explain it is a pile of hundreds of papers which comes to office everyday to each bureaucrat. It is a conglomeration of complaints, orders and instructions from above and one just sends it to the concerned after scribbling ‘for n.a. please’. A woman entered in the office ,she looked at me and smiled, I tried to remember where had I met her. I greeted her, my mind still racing fast, diving into the sea of memories for that ‘eureka’ moment where I would recognize her. There was awkward silence for some time, then to my relief she spoke, she told me that she had met me when I was posted in Meerut in relation to a case where her mentally challenged daughter was raped by a relative and I had instructed for an FIR to be registered. She had come to tell me that her daughter had passed away after two months and a final report was sent in that case due to lack of evidence but thanked me for getting the case registered. I wondered if this was the “immediate justice” I spoke of……………….may be God intervened to put an end to the mockery of justice ,forget about immediate justice…………

As I settled down on the cane chair in my lawn and started to contemplate I realized I had come far………………………..probably too far