[vc_row el_class=”mobile-padding extract-padding”][vc_column width=”2\/3″ offset=”vc_col-lg-offset-2″][vc_column_text]”Rishab\u2019s Rama”<\/p>\n
Rishab pushed open the door of his house and ran in. His bag flew from his back on to a nail on the wall.<\/p>\n
\u201cFirst time!\u201d he shouted gleefully. He had been practising for months, and now the bag had flown to its right place almost on its own, as if it had a pair of wings.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that you, Rishab?\u201d called his grandmother, coming in from the kitchen. Rishab grinned to himself. His grandmother asked this question every single day. The running footsteps and the bag\u2019s slap against the wall told her who it was, but still their afternoons together always began with this question.<\/p>\n
Later, after they had eaten and she had washed the dishes, they lay down side by side.<\/p>\n
Sometimes, when Rishab thought about which part of the day he liked best, he found it difficult to make up his mind. He loved the early morning when he woke up to the sound of his grandmother singing under her breath, as she picked flowers in the muddy little patch behind the house. Or the evening, when his mother got home from work, then his father.<\/p>\n
But the afternoons were, he decided, the most peaceful. His grandmother and he would lie side by side, the sun streaming in through the window into the quiet room. Or she would tell him stories, stories different from the kind he read, or heard in school.<\/p>\n
Some days, she would sing him one of the hundreds and hundreds of songs she knew. She had a soft, trembling voice, but she knew what every word meant. Rishab could tell, from the way she sang, that she believed in the song. He could see how much she loved it.<\/p>\n
Sometimes she would sing a story-song; a story from the\u00a0Ramayana\u00a0or the\u00a0Mahabharata.<\/p>\n
She told Rishab once, \u201cRama is called karuna-samudra. Do you know what that means?\u201d<\/p>\n
Rishab shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cKaruna is like pity,\u201d she said. \u201cThe gentle, sorry feeling you have when you see something that needs your kindness. Samudra of course is a deep deep ocean. So you see, there is no end to Rama\u2019s kindness, or his tenderness for all living things.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then one day, Rishab came home later than usual. His grandmother stood at the door, waiting for him.<\/p>\n
He went in with her, so full of news that he forgot to make his bag fly on to the nail on the wall.<\/p>\n
\u201cPati!\u201d he said, breathless, before she could ask him why he was late. \u201cI saw a big procession today on the way home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh? What procession was that?\u201d she asked him, taking the bag off his back.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere was a huge cardboard Rama with a bow and arrow. There were people with loudspeakers on a lorry. And everyone was shouting \u2018Jai Shriram! Help us to defeat our enemies!’ \u201d<\/p>\n
Rishab was so full of the crowds he had seen \u2013 the colour, the noise and the marching that had reminded him of an army \u2013 that he didn\u2019t notice how silent his grandmother was.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then, when the procession had marched down the road, I ran after it till the market,\u201d said Rishab. \u201cLook, one of the men with a trishul in his hand gave me this kumkum.\u201d<\/p>\n
Grandmother didn\u2019t even look at it. \u201cPut it away and come to eat,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Rishab was so excited by what he had seen that he had forgotten how hungry he was.<\/p>\n
Later, as they lay side by side, Grandmother suddenly said: \u201cRishab, when Rama, Sita and Lakshmana were in the forest, they saw a deer grazing near their hut. It had a beautiful tail.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSita admired the tail very much. She thought she would like to take home a tail like that to remember her years in the forest.<\/p>\n
\u201cRama decided to get the deer\u2019s tail for Sita.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut the deer suddenly turned around. Now Rama could no longer see the tail. Instead, he saw the deer\u2019s large, trusting eyes, and its defenceless neck \u2013 stretched out as if it was offering it in place of its tail.<\/p>\n
\u201cRama was filled with pity, with tenderness. Sita didn\u2019t get the deer\u2019s tail. But as they went back into their hut, their faces \u2013 the faces of Rama, Sita and Lakshmana \u2013 were full of wonder at what they had seen: the beauty of love and trust between two living creatures.\u201d<\/p>\n
Grandmother stroked Rishab\u2019s hair gently. \u201cI know that look,\u201d she told him. \u201cThat face of Rama you don\u2019t need cardboard to see.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rishab looked at her, a little puzzled by Grandmother\u2019s earnest face.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you remember what I called the song I sang yesterday?\u201d she asked him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Rishab, \u201cyou called it prema bhakti.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you remember what that means?\u201d she then asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cA prayer that is love,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n
And Rishab remembered the song again. He saw a peaceful, loving, generous face, like Rama\u2019s when he spared the deer. This was the face of Rama that he saw in his head whenever he heard Pati sing.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut Pati,\u201d he said, still puzzled, \u201cthis face looks different from the cardboard one. Are they two different Ramas?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSleep now,\u201d said Grandmother, her voice barely above a whisper. \u201cRama lives in your heart, not on cardboard or in some building. And a prayer \u2013 or a song of love \u2013 does not need loudspeakers.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then they fell asleep together, side by side, as if they had travelled a long distance that afternoon.[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row el_class=”mobile-padding”][vc_column width=”3\/6″ offset=”vc_col-lg-offset-2 vc_col-md-offset-2 vc_col-xs-8″ el_class=”border-top”][vc_column_text]From<\/em>\u00a0Sorry, Best Friend!<\/a>[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][vc_column width=”1\/6″ el_class=”border-top” offset=”vc_col-xs-4″][vc_column_text]Buy<\/a>[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"