Compassion

 

I was waiting impatiently for the doctor in the visitors’ room in the hospital. My eyes drifted in the whole room and finally rested upon a large ornamental vase that stood opposite to me on the mahogany table. The glass vase, half filled with water, had white and red tulips, their tender stems dipped in water. My eyes caught the sight of a ladybird, that walked on the outer edge of the white petal of one tulip. As I was admiring the beauty of the little creature, the bug slipped and fell into the water underneath. It struggled in the water for want of support.

I had a strong urge to pull out the flowers from the vase, and rescue the insect. But I resisted myself, hoping over hope that it would catch hold of the fleshy tulip stem and climb out to safety.

Five seconds passed, the ladybird was still in water.I rose from the seat, went near the table, pulled out a few flowers, put my hand inside the vase the and rescued the insect, neglecting the puzzled looks thrown at me by the other visitors.

If I had let the ladybird die, I would never have forgiven myself. The dove saved the ant from drowning by dropping a leaf into the stream ( so goes the story). Hundreds of people work tirelessly in Australia to throw those starfishes back to the sea which had got buried in the sand after a high tide. Volunteers in Britain rescue the countryside frogs from the road who would have otherwise fallen prey to the fast moving vehicles. Every little act of compassion can make a big difference in others’ lives.

Friends, let’s nurture life.

Leaves

In autumn, leaves fall down
to the gutters, rivers and pools.
Then, the naked tree sighs-
at the loss of his ornamental dress.
Some leaves fall on the terrace,
which are later removed by the broom,
along with twigs and bird droppings.
Some of them swirl into-
the public tanks, blocking-
the passage of water in the pipes.
Food for the microbes and earthworms
most leaves become; and there-
were some which made its way
into the naturalist’s potions.
A little girl picked one fallen leaf,
She pressed it inside her book,
and stacked weights on it until –
the leaf shrivelled and dried
to expose its veins and heart.
The leaf had started to give off
a little knowledge, when she-
showed it to me, pasted in her scrapbook.
When the doors of the rain open,
The scent of newly spaded soil erupts,
And none of the leaves are to be seen.
True, all leaves are buried, in the-
sands of time, except the one
owned by the little girl.

Good bye, Rain…….

All the rainy days are gone,

So I shall run the fields no more,
To feel the pleasure of morning rain
And to look for rainbow and happiness.
The croaking of the frog has ceased
The fireflies have merged with the stars
The butterflies have lost their painted wings
The cranes flew away, searching greener pastures.
The fresh smell of grass had lost,
Cotton candy clouds had left the sky,
Breeze was too distant to be felt,
The nightingales had stopped singing.
Looking out, though the window grills,
I see tired trees and withered grass.
My heart sinks to see the earth,
Roasting itself in the summer sun.