I was rather distracted that day, and as I went over the class material in my head, organizing my thoughts, wondering how to make sense of what seems to be increasingly senseless, and how to present 'the social construction of reality' in class without sounding pompous or inane or just vague. I sighed, drank my coffee and smoked, and then finally started looking. The pillar of the water fountain had a main base which formed a pool of indeterminate depth but half-way down there was a mini-base where there was some water that collected and the sprinkles made mini showers all over and into the main pool. As I looked I saw these fat little birds that were all happily sitting on that semi-base getting drenched in the showers from the fountain. They kept fluffing their wings every now and again and then just settled right back in again, looking very happy, content and cheery. I couldn't help but smile as I saw some nine of those fat little, ridiculously content, and very wet birds. I was wondering whether the water was cold or warm or cool and was wondering how it would be to sit on the edge and dip my feet into the pool. I even wondered how it would be if I let out a war whoop and leapt into the pool with a running sprint....
Not five seconds later some four boys and three girls came truddling along. They must have been high-school kids or maybe fresh undergrads who didn't have a class at 4 on Monday afternoon. They had just finished running around in the big water fountain (about that some other day) from the looks of it. They were all drenched and soaking to the bone but looked very happy. They walked over to the fountain where I was sitting and were contemplating on the merits of jumping into the pool. One girl stuck her toe in and said, "brrr....freezing."
One of the boys with an impish look on his face looked towards me and said, "You're going in after us, right?"
With a grin I said, "Sure. And you can go and teach my class."
A couple of them giggled. Another girl stuck her foot in and said, "wow - it's deep." The boy looked at me and said, "Don't know whether we should go in..."
I said, "Go for it. You're drenched anyway."
Even before the words were out of my mouth I saw one of the girls and two of the boys leap into the pool and swim two laps and then with mighty whoops they came out. "Cold. Cold. Cold." Two of them grinned hugely at me and said, "Have a nice day." And with that the noisy little bunch was gone.
The fat little birds had flown away some minutes ago.
I trudged off too for my class while wondering about 'the social construction of reality' again with a last look at the fountain.
3 comments:
Wonderful, this one, Shilpi. I'd love to read more and more of the same kind of musing. I could actually see myself there beside you, and who knows but I might have dived in after the boys and girls... leaving you very red in the face trying to explain to a lot of annoyed people (like security guards or something) that they must excuse your old boyfriend, because he's always been like that, several screws loose in the head, and never quite grown-up!
You were meditating for a while, of course, and it helps an awful lot if we try it every now and then. But of course, time and place matter a great deal. In this god-forsaken country it's becoming more and more difficult to find quiet and pretty places to meditate in...
I mentioned in my blog sometime ago, while talking about my reaction to the long-delayed rains, I think, how people seem to be forgetting how easily they can make themselves happy. Your boys and girls out there haven't forgotten yet, and I do, do hope that you haven't, either. I hope I will be there someday to indulge in some blessed childishness again.
Did the experience help in any way with your class-lecture, I wonder? I seem to remember Daitaro Suzuki saying in a book on Zen that such things help wonderfully to clarify and simplify things we are trying to get across...
Absolutely delightful comment! I'll have to stop re-reading this comment of yours for now and write some liners in response.
You know it's funny or odd - but I didn't even think I was meditating. Most of the times I try/force myself to meditate (or whatever it is that I think meditation means) - I fall asleep.
I didn't think about the class either. I remember fewer students looked bored, and some more than usual participated but I didn't make any links...
I know - that is what makes me infinitely sad. That there are fewer and fewer places in India on an everyday basis (unless one is living up in the mountains or right next to an empty beach)where people can go and sit and look and be.
I remember that bit very clearly from your blog. It is incredibly easy to be happy - especially if one is a mite blessed in terms of one's physical surroundings. So many times a day there are gentle and lovely happy moments unless one is trying to shoo them away or doesn't want to be in them.
Yes, those boys and girls knew how to be happy and cheerful (just like those content birds!). Me - alas - I am fast forgetting or else I stubbornly refuse to partake the drops of happiness that I know are there. A terrible shame.
As for your first bit - I don't remember the last time I laughed so prettily and as for going red - I already did thank you, just imagining your antics in the pool, and trying to explain to a crusty prof maybe, why exactly you had dived in. On the other hand - maybe I would have pushed you into the pool and followed you in had you been here. Ha! Think about that!
Ah yes - some blessed childishness is always good.
I must have told you the time that I made one huge yeti foot in the two feet deep snow while curious on-lookers passed me by....
Thanks a lot, Shilpi-di and Sir, for that wide smile I can't rub off my face.
That's that... Wonderful remembrance.
Post a Comment