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Love is indeed all that matters. Let us all be love mongers and go where love is!
There was a boisterous bunch of sparrows swinging from a tiny tendril of a hedge in the neighboring apartments. In fact, they were lording it over the bigger birds. And even a huge crow watched from the telephone wire, quite wary to take a descending flight to the hedge. Had the meek inherited the earth, finally, or was it my wishful thinking seeing things in a positive light?
There was a profusion of wild flowers all around, merrily swaying in the breeze and the squirrels were also in a very playful mood. The eloquence of nature was speaking to me in whispers – soft, soothing, muted.
There is a certain timelessness about these whispers, I thought, suddenly wondering whether nature spoke the same way to my dad when he tended his garden, or when he de-weeded his rockery, so lovingly ?
A graffiti artist had poured his heart on the wall fronting our house, which was actually the boundary wall of the building newly constructed. It was a red heart pierced with arrows, LOVE IS ALL THAT MATTERS, it said. I could almost hear it throbbing.
Well, yes, I am also a staunch believer in the power of love, and stood beaming at this work of art, unfazed by the rightness or wrongness of the graffiti artist’s choice of this spot for splashing his love- drenched creative hues. Love is indeed all that matters for me. I am a love monger-like it or lump it!
Morning Meanderings by Dr Santosh Bakaya
One of the residents of the building, on the way to his walk, stopped to frown at the wall, and bellowed at the security guard.
“Someone has spoilt the wall. You are not serious about your job, you are getting a hefty amount as salary and you cannot even stop people from painting the walls?” The security guard, rudely yanked from his forty winks, scampered to the scene, and stood ruefully, looking at it. “Let me see what I can do about it,” he said, eyes darting here and there. I walked on, not too willing to witness the removal of the traces of love – even from a wall.
As I walked on, my eyes fell on the old woman, whose son stayed abroad, she was sitting on a chair in her garden, talking animatedly to someone. This was pretty unusual. I had never seen her so happy.
Due to the wall, I could not see the person she was talking to, but her eyes fell on me, and leaving the teacup on the table, she hobbled up to the gate, a massive smile submerging the wrinkles on her face, making her look twenty years younger .
“Mera beta aaya hai America sey,” (My son has come from America) she scintillated, as she said it.
“Oh, that is great!” I chirped.
“Come and have tea with us. We were having tea.”
“Some other day,” I said, smiling back and managing to catch a glimpse of her son. Actually, just a glimpse of his night suit, as he was barricaded behind the newspaper, but the smile on the old woman’s face was big, bright and beautiful.
Love had done it. The son had done it, and the overhead sun agreed.
On my way back, I did not have the heart to look at the wall, to see whether it had been cleared of the vestiges of love.
Love is indeed all that matters, if only we could love as intensely as we hated, the world would be a better place to live in, not some dystopian nightmare we are hurtling into.
Naïve? Jejune? Juvenile? Foolish? Call me all synonyms of stupid, but I will still cling on to love. For me, love is indeed all that matters and I will go wherever love is.
If you love somebody enough
You’ll follow wherever they go
That’s how I got to Memphis
That’s how I got to Memphis
If you love somebody enough
You’ll go wherever your heart wants to go
This Tom T Hall song seemed to beckon me, as this was the song I had been listening to last night, before I turned in. I went home, because that was where love was, in that absolutely lovely, heart-warming scene from Newsroom. You can also join me there.
By the way, I agree, spoiling the walls is not good, but for an emotional fool like me, love is the only thing that matters, indeed – it has a redemptive power, a therapeutic power, and a healing power. It is the only antidote to the poison of hatred vitiating the atmosphere.
Let us all be love mongers and go where love is!
If only we could read the writing on the wall, before it was too late. If only.
(Pics: Pixabay)
Watch this space for more Morning Meanderings every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.😊
Click to read all Morning Meanderings here.
Dr Santosh Bakaya is the author of three mystery novels for young adults, and a book of essays titled Flights From My Terrace, which was recently published as an e-book on Smashwords. Her poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, Ballad Of Bapu has been published by Vitasta Publishers, Delhi, India in May 2015 and has been receiving rave reviews from everywhere. Although a Political theorist, with a doctorate in political theory, it is literature which has been her first love. She was awarded the Reuel international award for language and literature 2014 for her long poem Oh Hark!, which forms part of the Significant Anthology. Many of her poems have figured in the highly commended category in Destiny Poets, a UK based website and many are part of international anthologies. Right now, she is giving the final touches to her satirical novel, tentatively titled Sanakpur Shenanigans.
All Posts of Santosh Bakaya
All Posts of Santosh Bakaya
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Today’s Motivation
“Creativity is as important now in education as literacy and we should treat it with the same status.”
― Ken Robinson
thanks a ton.