The piercing sound of the long lash caught my attention as a man approached the road. He was half-naked, wearing a type of palazzo-style garment on his lower body. His back was painted red, and he periodically lashed himself to the rhythm of the music. After a while, he began to beg for money. When the traffic signal turned green, we all rushed back to reality, driving forward before the lights turned red again. As I began to drive, I couldn’t help but wonder what the beggar hoped for in life — was it more lashes, more cash, more begging, or perhaps a hot meal?
These thoughts lingered with me every time I encountered a situation. At college, I noticed preparations for new admissions were underway. The faculty seemed eager to welcome a new group of students. Many changes were occurring, particularly with the college becoming autonomous. I observed the faculty looking forward to these changes, including new positions and additional responsibilities.
I wear a smartwatch, and when I sit in my cabin for too long, it beeps and displays a message: “Start moving, it’s time to exercise.” I appreciate the reminder, so I decided to take a walk in the corridors. During my walk, I came across a young colleague who is expecting and only has a few days left until her delivery. She smiled and said, “I look forward to it being over; it feels like I’ve been so for ages.” I smiled back and replied, “It’s almost done.”
A few days ago, an advertisement was released for UGC-approved faculty positions. Everyone seemed focused on seeking permanency in their jobs. I found myself reflecting on God’s plans. Two decades ago, I was doing everything I could to land a permanent job. Today, I’m grateful that I didn’t get one, as everything I am today is a result of being adaptable rather than seeking stability.
As I walked a little further, I encountered Priya, who works in the administrative office. She was radiating happiness, talking animatedly to her fiancé and eagerly anticipating her upcoming wedding. I smiled and continued on my way.
I soon passed by the maids, who were working diligently and methodically, cleaning the corridors and windows without disturbing the students. Perhaps they were looking forward to a break, their lunch, or just a few moments of rest.
At lunchtime, I observed the students rushing to the canteen, chatting excitedly about the upcoming examinations. I also met a few friends who were discussing the question papers they needed to prepare for the exams. They were eagerly anticipating the students’ results.
Upon returning home, I noticed the security guard in our building complex waiting for his wife to bring him tea and snacks in the evening. They chose a spot in the parking area where community benches are located. She uncovered the kettle, poured a hot cup of tea for him, and served him fritters. Afterwards, she filled her cup, and together they gazed at the distant buildings, conversing while sipping their tea and enjoying the sight of people moving around. Over time, I have found that almost everyone looks forward to something in life; it has been a natural part of being human. If we stop looking forward to life, perhaps we lose the enthusiasm to live. However, the wisdom found in various scriptures suggests that sometimes living in the present is more beneficial than constantly anticipating what the future holds. This mindset can keep us happy and peaceful.
That evening, I met a Jain monk — a woman who had renounced her life in pursuit of peace. She carried a soft, round broom attached to her cream-colored dress, which resembled a gown. She wore a mask, not because she had a cold, but to avoid harming microorganisms with her breath. She walked slowly, her bare feet touching the ground as if they were kissing the earth; she did not wear shoes, as they could harm small creatures.
As she made her way to her hostel, I noticed that the place was clean and had several steps. She climbed the stairs carefully, placing her belongings down. She carried a utensil filled with water and sprinkled it three times over the dust rising from the ground. We were curious about her actions; she was settling the dust to protect some of the microorganisms.
I found myself wondering what the monk was seeking — was it salvation, peace, or a deep love for all living beings?
With the onset of monsoon, my early morning walks in the man-made forest turned out to be incredibly fulfilling, surrounded by expansive skies and lush greenery. This morning, as I gazed up at the distant sky, I saw dark clouds illuminated by glimmers of light. There was no rush to rise; the tall trees swayed gently, and the soft drizzle added to the serene atmosphere.
A squirrel appeared, calmly waiting on the wall, not in a hurry for food, while ducks glided gracefully across the man-made lake. Time seemed to stand still as I lingered there for a while. The water appeared still, the birds chirped softly, and the yellow flowers leaned toward the water, making the whole place feel like paradise. In a corner among the bushes, stray dogs and puppies were happily immersed in their world. Their joy wasn’t about food; it was simply about observing their surroundings and finding happiness in the moment. Nearby, an elderly man sang hymns and greeted everyone with a warm smile. Three young boys exercised effortlessly on the road leading to the park, seemingly unfazed by the sharp stones or dirt beneath their feet. It was a pure delight to watch them enjoy their workouts.
It was a lovely reminder to cherish every moment and find joy within it.
Zen is a present state of mind where one honours the task they are partaking of, even if the task is sitting still and doing nothing- Jasun Ether, The Beasts of Success
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