Love and compassion are basic human instincts which we seem to be losing somewhere today. But even amid the prevailing chaos it thrives, pulsates and promises to be around for eternity.
Enjoy Morning Meanderings Season 2 with your hot cuppa and cookies. ☕🍪😊
I could hear meows from the neighbour’s house. There sat Noddy on the window sill, head tilted to one side, looking at the multi hued world pass by.
How soon it had grown from a tiny kitten to a full bodied cat! It continued purring, trying to catch my attention, but my attention was caught by the yellow, orange, pink and golden liveried clouds that had been sashaying around like vain models on a blue carpet.
I saw nothing but an all pervasive radiance around. What were the trees whispering? I could not gauge that, but my heart was throbbing with the thought of some pleasing agonies, painful delights, half-forgotten memories, and half-remembered dreams slowly resurrecting.
A pup came bounding towards me, a calf chased me, perhaps expecting a morsel of bread, and the kitten-turned cat kept purring in the background. The pup looked inquistively at me and then ran towards a shaggy-haired youngster who looked at it quizzically and then bent down.
I thought he was bending down to pet the pup, but he was bending down only to pick up a pebble. My mouth fell open as he hurled the pebble at the poor little pup, who again came, this time whimpering in my direction. My heart missed a beat, and some video clippings flashed before my eyes.
Petrified folks plodding on, clinging to their pets, refusing to leave their homes without them. Dogs and cats, pups and kittens and smiles on tear-streaked faces against the backdrop of senseless shelling and roaring of guns. A bizarre collage of compassion and cruelty.
Under a tree, a gypsy family huddled around burning twigs, the smoke stretching its arms upwards to give a warm hug to the clouds.
A five year old kid sprang up from around the bonfire and ran towards the pebble thrower.
“How dare you hurt the poor pup?’ He said, standing akimbo before the hulk.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Don’t you have any compassion?”
“Is it right to hurt someone like this?”
“He is just a tiny pup.”
Soon a crescendo of indignant bellows followed.
The other joggers were chipping in with their reprimands.
The perpetrator mumbled something and jogged away, eyes throwing fiery darts at everyone.
The five year old bent down, scooped up the pup, stroked it lovingly and headed towards the bonfire.
But I could see that the tiny pup had already received its share of warmth from the compassion of the kid’s heart. I walked on, my faith in humanity restored by the action of a five year old, living on the fringe of society.
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