When once I met God

When once I met God
(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

Rainy Sunday. My Corolla, still young at 8 years.

I had just finished rounds and was still irritated at the never ending task list. From grocery to Income tax, there always is something pending, and what’s done is never enough. Countless patients with their endless problems, trusting you to solve them, and many suspicious that you have other intentions. Add the cut-throat professional competition where hitting below the belt is a smart move, and frame the picture with the duties towards each relation, closer the costlier. Driving through the city, you cross faceless somebodys flaunting ugly egos. Their middle name is money. Bribe hungry vampires wait at every corner, dressed in official greed. Nothing to be proud of, nowhere to go and nobody to look up to.

Life felt like a carcass with vultures on all sides, tearing me away.

Top gear, I entered the expressway and switched on my mental autopilot: the beautiful sound system that was prepared to play the huge collection of music: seventeen thousand tracks, pieces of history encoded in sound, human creation that separated us from animals.

The system burst alive with “Les Valses de Vienne” by Dmitri Shostakovich / Francois Feldman (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6mwqQvv99c ), and my brain lit up at the smiling face of my most favourite actress Sophie Marceau dancing gracefully to the waltz.
Irritability vanished, and a hopeful yearning for good days started whistling to the tune of this eternal piece of music. It hijacks my brain every single time. Born to a shop maid and a truck driver who divorced when she was nine years old, she made to the top in French films and a mark in Hollywood. She must have had her mountains of problems and valleys of a lustful society to overcome before she reached the top, but she indeed made happy memories for the world! It must be so damn difficult to smile and love and dance in front of a camera, knowing inside the reality called world. Then I felt it: that the beauty is your inside, what you can be, what you do good. Nothing outside will ever change, and the mirage of a utopian society will always kick between the legs of most idealists. But at the end of the day, what one will run to, what one will beg for, and what one will regret having lost is this: that all the time one had to do good and feel happy was wasted in feeling bad about what people are and what they do.

The music system, competing with the madness of its owner, shuffled to Simon and Garfunkel’s “El Condor Pasa”.. “A man gets tied up to the ground, He gives the world its saddest sound” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNbltoivskc ) . How tightly we hold on to the ground, never letting go! How religiously we guard the image we like to create of ourselves for others, and how much beauty of life we sacrifice to safeguard that image!

The rain decided to be nice for once, and became torrential. If at all it rains, it should rain like the final war, or it should not rain at all!

“Moonriver” by Henry Mancini started, as Audrey Hepburn sung in a most loving, melodiously romantic voice, what the heart had always craved: “There’s such a lot of world to see… we’re after the same Rainbow’s end” … so many artists have made timeless icons of lovely moments that soak our lives..

God knows how mute love would have been without music, and how dry without the rains!

The uncontrollable desire to get drenched, suppressed for long, took over me. No book said it was unbecoming of a doctor. I parked on the shoulder and got out. Happy raindrops jumped upon my being and got hold of everything I had.

Ironically, the happiest and the saddest moments in life are when you have nowhere to go and nothing to prove. If you hold a hand in the rain, you are the luckiest, richest in the world. If that hand holds your hand too, you have lived life.

Steaming hot poisonously sweet tea, made by a roadside stall, added to the flavour of that moment. Like a loving but stern mother slapping the bum of her naughty child, nature had shooed shut human movement, a reminder to the highest rule: enjoy happiness while alive. . Big and small, rich and poor, all looked at the sky, content with nothing, smiling at the rain, forgetting the desire to earn more in that moment!

Nostalgic, I recalled sitting by my father and watching water-lily buds broken open by raindrops. I remembered my stunningly beautiful friend with curly hair who kissed me on Marine Drive by the roaring sea under the stormy rain, standing on that parapet, forgetting that there were shocked people around. I remembered falling flat upon my back like a hundred idiots while running with my kids, telling them to be careful.

What is it that I am running after now, with so many beautiful things around me: the music, the rain, the friends, my kids, coffee, books, driving, writing… What more will I buy that will make these things more meaningful? Is it worth being unhappy, being irritable with the world, trying to change people, having more money than being able to enjoy peacefully?

Once in a recent radio programme (recorded) Mr. Ameen Sayani, that messiah of voice, played a rare clip of speech by Mr. Raj Kapoor “Sangeet nahin hota toh jaane hum kahan hote, kya karte, kaise jeete (If there were no music, God knows Where we would be, what we’d do or how we’d live)”.

I suddenly realized, that the music, the drive, the road and the rain had conspired to take away my worries. They had reset the method in my madness. The eternal ‘Flute’ so dearly mentioned in “Geetanjali” by Rabindranath Tagore had played in me.

The rain had stopped for now. The music never will.

Thus I met God in my own Happiness.

(c) Dr. Rajas Deshpande

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