The year was 1290 . A crowd had gathered around a clearing, where broken down pillars marked the presence of an ancient temple, now long gone. A young boy, just 14 years old, leaned against one of those pillars, deep in thought. Then, he began speaking, and the crowd fell silent, listening to his every word. He spoke without any notes, translating the Bhagavat Gita, from Sanskrit, which only the pundits knew, to the language everyone in the village knew and spoke – a variety of Prakrit which developed into the Marathi language. Even as he spoke, one of the men in the audience realized how momentous this event was, and how important this composition would be. He began writing down the words the young boy spoke, and this composition was named by its author and composer, the Bhavartha Deepika – the enlightening meaning (of the Bhagavat Gita). Now, the ancient, holy text, was no longer restricted to the pundits, but accessible to all, understood easily by them, composed as it was, in their...
We saw these boys on the way to Wayanad, but this scene could have been anywhere in India.
Two boys, hard at work, cleaning a pump, outside a garage. Its always sad to see young children in rags, working, at an age when they should be at school, or playing. Its worse when they are right outside a college, to which, in all possibility, people pay lakhs to get their kids into, and then the said kids waste away their time learning little if nothing, throwing away their parents' hard earned money in frivolous pursuits. Could there be a higher contrast?
Hmmm... tough life!
ReplyDeleteNicely framed.
Thanks Indrani!
DeleteLife anywhere you go it roughly remains the same :(
ReplyDeleteyes, Mridula. nothing much seems to change.
DeleteChildren worked life is very dangerous.
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ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your one of a kind adventure. :)
ReplyDelete