HORIZON
Heart That Needs Heart
“My heart listens only to the music of heart. The language
of mind just forms vague images and figures which I can’t get myself associated
with. And for me establishing connection from my inside is very important”,
explained he.
He was in the
business of selling hearts. Robust and man of sugar coated words has won many
hearts because of his occupation. Like any other renowned man of caliber he too
was treasuring gems of name, fame and recognition. That’s what he had longed
for fifteen years of low profiled, low ebbed and undignified life. He was a laborer then. What he used to earn he used to consume the same day in eating
and getting drunk and used to get mingled in slumber of carefree life and never had any expectations from it.
He had no liability but he was a burden on himself.
On the onset of every new morning he used to wake up
with guilt, the biggest self invited ailment man feeds for himself. He with his
closed eyes used to find himself in the crowd of world’s second largetst
population. “What I am? I am sheer waste in the world full of best human
resources. I must gather all my capabilities to be what I am.” He started
excavating his real him. He was good in winning hearts, so he started selling
hearts.
One came with eyes filled with tears, begging to
save him from cruelty of his own people, relation of blood. They had all
discarded him as he was not as rich as they were. But they were very poor in
feelings and emotions. He was shattered when he came to the seller of hearts,
who resolved his problem by making his own family bestowing all her love on him
and for him. There was another one who came crippled, left rolling in the tides
of time and circumstances. This seller of heart solved his problem by connecting
him to a charitable organization and let his heart feel light and joyous.
There was one couple who came with heart rendering
cries as they lost their nine year old only son to the most deadly disease
cancer, and had no hope to have other child of their own. He melted and took
them to an orphanage, where many parent less and homeless small and innocent
children welcomed them with their willing hearts, and they left with smiles in
their lap by adopting three year old girl.
That was not all. A wife lost her husband in war at border;
he helped her to be self reliant for the smiles of her three kids and
forgetting her pain of losing her brave husband. He sold her the heart which
she had buried with the corpse of her husband. He only could do it in very
subtle and quiet manner. He had the magical heart which listened to the untold
stories of hearts only and to give these hearts the beats he used to sell
hearts.
The buying currency for him was his soft words and
ability to win the trust of others. People readily used to agree to sell him
feelings, emotions, sentiments at the cost of his humanitarian bent of heart.
He was not a preacher. He was not a messiah. He was not any guru. He was not a
saint. He was not any leader. He was not a priest. He had no sect. He had no
religion. He did not belong to any school of thought. All he was was just his
own self: the listener of heart and seller of heart.
People invest in movable and immovable properties
but he used to invest in making hearts, spreading smiling hearts and creating
loving hearts. He was an illiterate but he started writing a new language: The
language of heart whose alphabets were pity, compassion, empathy, sympathy,
care and concern. The grammar of this language was connection and formation of
relations only. He was so very happy to reside in the hearts of people.
Today he lies on the bed in a small hospital
fighting his life because his own heart has failed. The machine is gradually
forming a straight line but in between goes up and then down. He is in unconscious
slumber, but this time it is not guilt that is taking birth. It is now the
prideful heart: ailing but satisfied. It is going to die yet alive in millions
of hearts.
He now knows the answer to his question of who he
was. He is none other than our hearts which we have shut on the world seeing
its brutality and coarseness. We have imprisoned it behind the bars of
materialism and self absorption.
The present scenario of setting territories on the
basis of religions and prejudices is failing every effort of this bleeding
heart. Its business is now at loss. The
irony is it has solution for every painful heart but for its own disease it has
no medicine.
Will there be any other seller of hearts born to
render its self less care to heart in trouble? The blood is oozing out profusely.
Sangeeta Sharma
