Tuesday 22 July 2014

An infinite walk

How often have I had this longing for an infinite walk – of going unimpeded, until the movement of my body as I walk fell into the flight of streets under my feet – until I in my body and the world in its
skin of earth were blended into a single act of knowing.
- Alfred Kazin,
 The Open Street

The sun was yet to show its glaring  countenance. It was a sparkling dawn. The sky was cloudless   and clean except for a  little shining  star looking like a stray lamb looking for its mother  and siblings . On the road side  factory workers were awaiting their buses . One of them who  happened  to know me greeted me saying “ Good morning , have a nice day”. I thanked him and put my hands on his shoulders . When I speak to such workers  I love to put my right on their shoulders  as a gesture of  my appreciation of their toil   to feed their families and my solidarity with them.

Once a doorman in Harrods greeted me saying “ Have a very beautiful day
The doorman who greeted me in Harrods

Sir”  His smiling  face,   still  in my mental screen, conceive   a multitude of unspoken utterances .Sincere behaviours create an indelible imprint  in  our minds .Time can never  erase such impressions . Though money matters , it seems to me that there  are certain  areas where money  fears to  tread, sincerity being  one of them  as it is not  a commodity  traded in stock markets.

 A Traditional  Tea  Shop in Kerala 
 Though it was too early, a teashop was open to serve tea and light refreshments to those workers to prepare them to start a new day in their career  . It  reminded me of the traditional teashops in Kerala where villagers used to meet  to read local news papers, discuss politics and even engage themselves in hot arguments.



On my way , it was indeed exhilarating to hear cock   crowing which is a rare phenomenon in Qatar where  I now live  . The rooster , though caged , does not refrain from  performing  its  duty. Back in India  these birds are  let loose  and  are free to move wherever they want .  There it is their crowing   accompanied by song of cuckoos that  herald the birth of  a new day and  when we wake  up to look at  the greenery around our houses  we have crystal like dew drops on fresh and green plant leaves  to refresh our minds.

Three  cats were playing  on the roadside as if they were fighting one another. Their bodies were untidy  being soiled by  dust particles. I tried to touch one of them but it ran away lest I should harm it.  These cats   reminded me of  a beautiful cat that befriend me   two  decades ago when I was living in Doha in a single room as a  bachelor. Some times when the cat  rubbed its body against my leg to show its affinity  I trampled  its arms or legs  accidently  It  just  cried and never  growled or  scratched or bit me as other cats usually do . It was strange  that  when it found  the door of my room closed it used to jump  to door lock handle which was pressed down under its weight whereby  the door was let open and its entered my  room .  I remember that my eldest son, who contributes to this blog,  had visited me in those days  when he was around 11 years old and had  enjoyed its  company. I can never forget it 


A few yards away an old and frail  mother cat was   walking  very slowly  carrying its babies in its belly. It may give birth to its beautiful multicolored babies at any time. Animals about to give birth is always  a source of hope , expectation and tension at the same time. The pregnant cat was reminiscent of the cows and goats my father used to rear .  When these animals showed signs of labour , the whole family used to share their pain and when they deliver their babies  we used to share its joys.
 I  remember how we watched with curiosity cow  washed   its baby by licking its body until it is completely clean, how the baby  was  trying to stand up, how  we helped  it  drink its mother's milk  . The domestic animals'  udder full of fresh milk  was symbol of  prosperity and abundance . I do miss those days.

The father 
Images :Courtesy to Google 



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