Haji ali says...

I had almost finished my one sided conversation when a man from behind pushed me and made me realize that there was a queue. I bowed down, stepped back and closed my eyes as a finale. Gratitude. The flowers I had offered were on their place, my prayers heard. I knelt down and bowed again as a reminder of the conversation I had with him, my Peer Baba. Baba Haji Ali.

My words spoken in silence summed up to be my doubts. Many of those were multiples of my gratitude. Another framework of these unspoken words; my trust. About turn and just outside the shrine the sea welcomed me. I could see a patch of land with pieces of concrete art across the sea. Mumbai. Precisely Worli.

I always enjoy the sound of the air. I like it when it rushes through my hair. Mumbai was in the backdrop. It made me feel no less than the Hero of a Hindi film. Cut cut cut!

I walked through many veiled and unveiled faces to reach the cliff where I always sit after my never ending one sided conversations. Sitting and looking around I wondered why I always went to that place. Why it invited me. If at all I will hear God’s words of wisdom. Will my doubts be solved, my prayers answered?

I asked Him to give me strength; to face the difficulties that come my way. Strength; to value my cherished and prized bringing up and hold on to the value system I always flaunt with utmost pride. Strength; to change only for the better.
Its magical that a rock captured my sight. Partly embedded in the sea, partly risen, it stood firmly. I saw strength. I am sure the infinite thrusts of the waves that are born in the ocean gave the rock enough reasons to mould into another shape. But I am equally sure that the rock was honest to its creation. It wouldn’t have changed. It didn’t. It was insulted. Take two. Cut. Take 3. Endlessly. Imagine someone wetting you with a glass of water. But it held its ground. Firmly. I got strength.

I had asked for happiness; for my family, my friends, wellwishers, my love, and for myself. There were enough complaints of sorrow, bitter feelings, grief from all directions. I had to ask for happiness.
I saw a young boy holding the hands of a much older woman, I’m not sure if she was his mother. But I witnessed the intention of the clasps of those hands. It made me think of my mother. He was helping her trek those rocks so that she did not fall.
I saw a couple sitting on another rock, holding hands. I’m sure they were in love.
They were not well dressed. Surely the guy never drove back home in a car unless he was a driver. The girl wasn’t Miss India. But she was his most beautiful woman.
It was happiness I found. Behind the veiled rushes of my ignorance, I thought of all the people who really loved me in all the conditions I put. I smiled thinking about all the times they proved it and all the times they could not. All the sorrows that surfaced, melted away. I was happy.

I asked god to help me move on with the work that I loved doing.
My work. Twice I had failed. It had made me a bitter gourd from within. The resurfacings of those failures haunt me like nothing else. If my life was a film, I would edit it again but…
Those incomplete scripts, dried fountain pens, faded posters, and unedited videos narrow my brows in frustration. I eat my lips, gulp my heart. I close my eyes to think it never happened…I fail. Streams of ego, anger run through my veins, accompanied by disappointment just enough to empty the last few thorns of tears that my eyes bowl.
Amidst these thoughts, a small boy of five or six dressed in torn and dirty clothes came up to me with expecting eyes. He was a beggar. I did not think twice before rejecting his plea to give him some bucks. He must have been disappointed. Like I was? I wondered. I turned my face but could not stop myself to see where he went next.
He went to an old man, then a woman, then to another. Begging, failing, complaining to himself. Begging again. Take 2. take 3. take so on and on. Cut. He fell out of my sight.
I wonder if he ever got a paisa. But I learnt my lesson. I wont stop. I will start again…Alone, if no one ever comes along. Take 3. take 4…. Take as many times to get to do what I have loved and longed for.

It was His work. My doubts were cleared, my gratitude multiplied, my trust strengthened.
I breathed the fresh air and thanked Him again. And as I turned my back to the dargah to walk outside, I was sure He blessed me with more doubts to clear, more challenges to look forward to every morning, more defeats to make me humble enough to celebrate the true victories of life.
So I wiped my face and took a cab to the nearest station to continue my journey.