Quest of joy…

It is nearly two and half hour’s journey from my residence to my school .everyday (except the days when god blesses us with holidays) we have to cover the distance by local train.
Our school is situated amidst the lush greenery of rural Bengal. Our journey covers all –metro city, urban locality, semi urban and rural area. Train passes through localities and I watch with keen interest- ducks are flapping their wings- before their swim. A calf is running waging his tail in search of his mother. There is black water within the roots of an uprooted tree and it seems that a cave of phantom is created. Cranes are sitting with one leg up as if a hermit is in his prayer. Boys are making merry jumping in ponds in the hot summer days. And through all these scenarios our train is passing through-nearer comes our destination.
And three comes the rail station-our journey through auto rickshaw to our school starts from there. Classes are held in a periodic manner- students are mostly first generation learners. The silence of the surrounding is occasionally broken by the chirping of some unknown birds. The hot days starts to get over. It is now the journey backwards.
the scenario changes when we start our journey back to residence- this time the red sun also returns with us , at a pace matching that of the train. Scenario of the surroundings turns out to be completely different this time- no more jumping in the ponds, no more cranes in meditations- but cows and calves are returning home, fruits of harvest are getting collected by men and women.
When I look at my colleagues I got puzzled with their utterance that the journey, the life .all is monotonous – all are annoying to the extreme. It is the same dull old view year after year that they are bored with, it is the same old syllabus; it is the same old students they are frustrated with. Incidentally then I sometimes remember a sentence of my mother- who still believes that if you can not adore your job, how you can adore yourself.
Saying is one issue and believing is another. Throughout the whole life I had seen her leading a monotonous life- truly a grey one- I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth. But I had never seen getting annoyed of life- she had a power of getting happy within herself- as if a laughing Buddha is in the driver’s seat! She still has the rare ability to feel happy at the most smallest of things- the priceless, invaluable moments are literally a source of happiness in her life. And throughout her life it is her constant endeavour to make sure that every person surrounding her- not only her own blood and flesh but strangers also –to be a partner of her quest oft of joy.
She is my first teacher who literally donated me the eye for liking everything. at my girlhood- I used to get annoyed with everything and I have heard I was notorious for my mood swing for even smallest of issues. (Heard not seen and it is up to you to believe or reject). She told me to search out joy and happiness from the smallest of odd moments from our life-like a diver searches out a pearl from an oyster. When I do not like a particular chapter of my study she used to advice me to close the eyes and visualize-it was mainly history and geography because I considered them the most boring ones. That perception still guides me- never let me feel grief, pain or despair.
Life will go on- all my hairs will turn grey one day. But I still believe that my happiness will never leave me- everywhere I will find out my joy of life. Age will never be able to crumble my views of life.
A view of life-that is the gift of the greatest teacher of my life- my mom!
When I look at the stress, strain and conflict torn world of today, I do feel how extremely lucky I am to have a mother like her.
The mother who taught me how to be happy, the mother who gifted me a different perspective of looking at the world around me!

Well, before I wrap up – a concluding word or two. It is some scribbling on paper-reader may or may not discover any meaning from it. But the words are straight from my heart- without any special meaning……

Scribbling of a daughter on her mother…….

All of you have more wonderful stories of your mom..I am sure.
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