Desecration.

The atmosphere in the village had turned volatile. A mob had gathered. Most of them were armed with sticks. Some with stones. They wanted revenge. They wanted to beat up the neighboring villagers for desecrating the statue of an erstwhile leader. Me and my friends were all out supporting the mob and wanted to witness the fight. In spite of an appeal from a few whom we referred to as cowards, the mob was now heading steadily towards the neighboring village. We were following the mob keeping a safe distance.

He had been a great leader. People looked up to him in times of difficulties and dangers. For years his statue was worshiped by all. In recent times people had forgotten about him but nonetheless the desecration had not gone down well.

As the mob approached the neighboring village we could see the enemy group approaching as well. They too were armed. There would be a real fight my friend said. The two groups were now facing each other. The leader of our village was asking the other group to apologize or face the consequences. The leader of the other group was demanding evidence.

It looked like there could not be any peaceful resolution to the problem. The two groups were about to strike when their eyes fell on the statue. There were two old man cleaning up the statue. One man from our village and the other from the neighboring village. The angry villagers had stopped in their strides. The two old man had led the bitter fighting between the villages for years. Each of them bearing the marks of the intense rivalry. But today they were cleaning the statue together. They were silently doing the cleaning act. There was a moment when I thought that they smiled at each other.

I wondered what each one might have said to the other. In a few minutes the anger had pacified. The same villagers were now providing helping hand.

We were too young to understand what had happened. Looking back in time I think after years of fighting the two had realized that violence is not a solution any problem.

Story.

Another year had gone by at school. The next year would bring a myriad of changes that we were not ready for. We were gripped with uneasiness and doubts had crippled our mind. We had a lot of discussions on coping up with the changes but did not find any satisfactory answer. As we were not making any headway, we decided to talk about it to our teacher.

He was citing examples of various other students to comfort us but it was not having the desired effect. Just then it had started drizzling. Oh! not the rain's we said. But the teacher was smiling. He asked us to sit down and started narrating a story. What is rain he asked? Drops of water falling from the sky we replied in chorus. Today I will tell you a story of rain drops falling from the sky. We were patient as there was no other choice.

One day I heard a group of rain drops talking to each other he said. They were all worried about their fate while they were falling to the ground. One said he was afraid of being torn into smaller drops by the wind The second said she was afraid of falling into the fire. Few others were afraid of falling into dustbins and all were afraid of falling into the dung. Yuck we all said.

As they were falling to the ground they withstood the forces that were trying to destroy them. They did so in their own way. A group of drops fell over the children playing happily in the garden. Another group helped quench the thirst of living beings. Yet another group gave life to trees. A few ones who managed to direct themselves against the forces managed to fall into the mouth of the oyster's to become pearls. But everyone had been successful in one way or the other. There cannot be any comparisons made between their success.

We had left fully satisfied. For a few days we also tried listening to rain drops talk without success. This story had a lasting effect on us. Years later we realized that the story had actually been an extension to a poem. That day has been etched into my memory deeply.