|
|
Musings
Those
Karma Yogis
‘Mesmerized’ is the word that had eluded me all these days. And when it
appeared with the first ray of dawn this morning it added a totally new
hue to the crimson on the eastern horizon. What had made all this
difference? It kept me wonderstruck just as some recollections from a not
too distant past followed this word.
It had been an incessant search for a word that most aptly described the
state of my mind since the day I first watched that performance. The deft
movements of those fingers, the expression of a longing for an elusive
goal in those eyes and those unfaltering and sure steps all contributed to
make that performance a memorable one. It had become etched in the
recesses of my memory and the longer I had to wait for an apt descriptive,
the deeper grew those etchings.
The prolonged wait that had kept on bringing her back to me again and
again culminated with the day break this morning. This day break revealed
a unique vision with a remarkable clarity. The vision had brought with it
an explicit rationalization of the actions that we do and see being done,
the doer of those actions and the fruits thereof. It became apparent that
this was the vision that made all the difference this morning.
Almost instantly, I was driven back in time as if carried by some unseen
vehicle following the footprints of the clouds. I found myself at the
construction site on the day when the concrete slab for the roof for my
house was being cast. The stage had been set a few days earlier when they
spread an interwoven steel maze for the cement concrete to be poured. And
that day she was there with all of them at the construction site. In the
company of some others like her she too must have left her home and hearth
in some remote sleepy village in search of bread and bed amidst the hustle
and bustle of this city. There was a lot of excitement in the air and a
tremendous amount of activity all around. Some of them were operating the
concrete mixers while others were scurrying up and down the improvised
wooden ramp carrying the mortar and still others were spreading the
mixture evenly.
She was amongst those who carried the mortar and walked bare feet on the
steel and wire mesh with the graceful agility and dexterity of an
accomplished performer on the dance floor. The spike like wires jutting
out of the joints and the tough twisted steel seemed to be waiting to
caress her feet rather than hurting her soles. Each load of mortar poured
on the steel frame was an achievement and also a preparation for the next
one to be carried all the way up from the ground level. I wondered about
her thoughts as she made innumerable rounds made to and fro carrying and
pouring the mortar. Where was her mind other than her work? How about her
baby whom she had put to sleep just before the work commenced?
Those hands that had been so delicately rocking a hammock improvised out
of a tattered cloth for an infant just a few minutes ago were now carrying
the load of rough mixture of cement and mortar. As she swiftly negotiated
the wire and steel mesh with her bare feet she would steal a glance now
and then in the direction of her baby as if searching for a reflection of
her own dreams in the dreams of her baby. But all the while there was just
a single pointed mission of carrying the mortar without any faltering on
way and pouring it without any mistake at just the right spot.
As the wire and steel frame work gradually disappeared under the mortar
her movements became still faster as if competing with the westward moving
Sun. Then one final round and the whole slab was cast. That was the moment
of reckoning, the culmination of an exhaustive day’s grueling schedule a
goal that seemed so far now reached.
What was so particular in that whole action sequence that left an
indelible impression on my mind and arrested the cavalcade of my thoughts?
Just as everyone gathered, having washed their feet and hands, for the
customary round of sweets distribution there was an impromptu joyous
rendering of a hilarious village folk song. Someone improvised a drum out
of an empty canister and almost swirling to that beat she too joined the
chorus. The singularly carried out efforts by each one of them merged in
to one final result and the crowning glory of their efforts came with that
song. None of them clamored for the awards and none of them claimed the
credits for a job well done. They were rather busy with then joyous and
musical rendering of the satisfaction they had when they saw their target
having been achieved. Her cheerful voice that lent a bewitching
mellifluence to the chorus, the blissful contentment on her on holding her
baby close to her again and offering to him her share of the sweets and
her incessant contribution to the effort of all her companions all
throughout the day were the most appropriate enunciation of the laws
governing the actions destined and performed and the results obtained.
I witnessed the meaning of an intriguing chapter from the book of life
being revealed and explained. With an amazing alacrity she transformed
from a doting mother to an intensely involved worker and a willing
contributor of all her might for achieving one common goal and just when
it was the moment to bask in the warmth of the successful accomplishment
of a task she had again metamorphosed into a housewife and a mother. Had I
just witnessed a human form mechanically executing certain mundane tasks
or was it a projection of the ultimate prowess on a terrestrial frame
bringing forth the manifest silhouette of some nebulous design and
thoughts? Where was the mother in her when she carried the loads of mortar
and where was the worker in her when she leant her voice to that joyful
chorus? Who was working and what was the work? What were the means and
where was the end?
I stood rooted to the ground trying to trace the doctrines of Karma in the
action sequence carried out by those Karma yogis.
Mesmerized was indeed the right word!
–
Dr.
Vidur Jyoti
December 8, 2002
Top |
Musings
|
|
