QUANTUM OF SORROWS

August has been a rather depressing and distressing month for me, despite my telling others that we should never give up hope. But this last month could best be described as “My cup of woes brimmeth over”.

Some things may sound silly and mundane, but could warrant deeper reflection. For one, I like gardening. I had just put down a small patch of spinach (palaak) and it sprouted beautifully. Then the torrential rains came and drowned those tiny seedlings. Nothing to cry about, one could say.

But what about our farmers who are so dependent on the vagaries of the weather, or a truant monsoon? How does a farmer feel when he sees his labour drowned in rain or washed away in the floods? Or, if the rains fail, seeing his crops wither under an unrelenting sun? How can I be happy and joyful when I know that others are suffering?

At the beginning of the month, at 3:23 p.m. on 6^th August our doggie, Ginger, walked out of the front gate and didn’t look back. The moment was captured on our CCTV. We searched high and low for her, but to no avail. She was a small mixed breed who had been with us for 15 years, much more than the normal life span of a dog.

Since our children had grown up and flown the coop, Ginger was a constant companion to my wife, especially when I was away or at work. The uncertainty was killing, no pun intended. Had she been kidnapped? Had she starved to death? Had she been mauled by stray dogs?

The last was least likely, because animals have their own code of conduct. They will not attack a defenseless, isolated female of the species. This is true animal behaviour. Yet when brutal men rape a defenseless woman we call them beasts. It is an insult to the animal world. Even a tiger will not seek prey till it is hungry. A cobra will not attack unless we step on or near it. When humans lose their sense of morality they are not beasts, they are demons.

Yes, my wife and I kept wondering about our little dog’s fate. What then of those families who lose their loved ones in senseless wars perpetrated by insensitive leaders; be it in Ukraine, Gaza or Iran? What of mothers and wives wondering if they will ever again see their sons or husbands? What of children dying in Gaza deprived of basic human aid, food, shelter or medicine? We are depraved humans.

Tragically, the perpetrators of such immense human suffering are more concerned about constructing new ballrooms or parliament complexes that get flooded; or expressways that crumble with the first downpour? Aha, the rain. I live in Kanpur, in the Gangetic basin. We get two months of monsoon rain in July and August. This year our omniscient meteorologists predicted a vastly deficit monsoon. Then the taps above opened. I have never experienced so much incessant rain as in this last month of August.

I am writing this on the morning of 2^nd September and there has been no letup. The roof of our old house is leaking in several places. There is a bucket placed just near where I am sitting to write. Before daybreak, while stumbling in the dark, I actually kicked the bucket while getting to my table. Drip, drip, drip.

I am discomfited by a few drops of rain trickling down in different parts of the house. What of those who have no roof over their heads, or living in one room shanty tenements? How can they endure this unrelenting rain?

Then, on TV we saw the floods come – the ice, rocks, sludge and rampaging waters in neighbouring Nepal. More than a thousand have been confirmed dead and many more are as yet unaccounted for. Unimaginable human suffering. Lives and livelihoods destroyed, hopes mired in mud. Initially we were told that it was climate change that caused the glaciers to melt. It is now emerging that the floods were triggered by uncontrolled construction work in the upper Himalayan regions in Tibet/China.

Here again we humans pay the price of our own folly or greed. In India too we are continuously felling trees, denuding forests, destroying wetlands and mangroves, all in the name of development. There is no real answer to the development versus displacement debate, but all macro level planning must take into account the cost to benefit ratio.

Another irony of the unfolding Nepal tragedy is that many of the casualties were pilgrims to the holy Hindu shrines of Kailash Mansarovar. Why didn’t the almighty God protect them? Lest some self-righteous religious bigots wag their fingers at those of other religious persuasions let us recall the tsunami that struck on 26^th December 2009. Two sisters of the SCJM congregation in northern Sri Lanka were distributing Communion when they swallowed by the swirling ocean. Religion, or religious practices, per se, is no insurance cover against the wrath of nature.

We have entered the month of September that reminds one of the 1961 movie “Come September” starring Rock Hudson and Gina Lollabrigida. Its music haunts us 65 years later. But I can’t get up and dance. Early this morning I got more sad news that a family friend had passed on the previous night, on the eve of his 88^th birthday. He wasn’t exactly a fan of my writings, but when I saw his photograph this morning with the announcement of his death, I again felt a sense of personal loss.

Will September be better than August? Will foolish and ambitious men learn from their earlier mistakes? Will the wars in Ukraine, Iran and Gaza end? Will our over ambitious leaders learn to respect the environment and the laws of nature? Will we learn to respect the weak and voiceless?

I am reminded of a management principle, about areas of concern and areas of control. We are indeed concerned about macro issues like wars and environmental damage, but they may be beyond our control. But at the micro level there are areas within our control. Let us begin with ourselves and our immediate surroundings. What can I do to make life better and safer for someone? How can I bring a smile to somebody’s face, even a person I don’t know or may never meet again?

I am reminded of the Covid lockdown. I managed to get a pass for essential services. My way to work was partly along the GT Road national highway. Whenever I saw people trudging wearily I would stop and ask just two questions. Where are you coming from and where are you going? I didn’t ask their names or religion. Most were walking from Mumbai or Gujarat and heading for Bihar or Bengal, distances of about 2000 kms. I would just give them some money to help them on their way.

Though I drive a diesel car I always carry a bottle of petrol. This is because there is no petrol pump along the 7 km stretch from my home to my office. I invariably come across two-wheelers being wheeled along, having run out of fuel. Two days ago it was a woman stranded beside her scooter in the rain. I stopped and filled her tank. I did not ask her name nor did she ask me mine. But I did what I could for a person in need.

The point that I am making is that no matter what our own limitations, we can always make the world a better place. Look around you and you will find someone in need, whose quantum of sorrows is more than your own. That is also the best way of helping one’s self; for it is in giving that we receive, in caring that we are in turn cared for. Goodbye August, Come September.

Also read “The Ginger Trail”.