E Zine of KV Pattom published by the Library

MY BEAUTY by Mrs. Lily Luke

In Articles on January 28, 2008 at 1:59 pm

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My Beauty?

 A few petals on a drooping stalk –that is what remains of a rose in my garden. Days ago, this rose was resplendent with its soft petals, its fresh hue and profusion of fragrance. Still I feel the moisture of the silver drops and the rich aroma it exuded .Why I dote upon this withered rose who after the demonstration of its grandeur is dying -I do not know .For sometime I am in a haven of serenity, away from the feverish and frantic pursuits .I pause to ponder….                    

 A sudden revelation strikes me and I start sensing the pulse of the universal beauty in this rose. A’nt I also a part of this Infinite beauty? Yes, certainly I am. What is my beauty? My beauty is when I am an instrument of the Almighty .It is the inflow of the eternal essence in my mortal shell.         

     I check this inflow of the Infinite beauty in me many times and I cease to be an instrument .For I am a rich man ;I wear rich clothes, I eat richer food and I have the richest company .A scorn twists my handsome face when I see a toiler sweating by his backbreaking toil. Then I slacken more in my posh cozy bed, thinking myself to be made for aristocratic leisure  .The inflow of the Infinite, I check with my ‘ HAVES’ and I fail to see the gleam of the almighty that shines in the toiler.              My gardener nurtures the plants and flowers in my courtyard with love and tenderness .He is really an artist who sees a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a flower .I am deliberately forgetful about his happiness of creations and that he has more affinity with the Super Being. I am aware I am still wistful in my palatial bungalow and I consciously ignore that he enjoys contentment in his ramshackle hut.               My driver struggles hard to make both ends meet. But he helps a blind beggar across the road. He indulges in charity within his means while I grudge a small coin to a beggar. Many a time do I call him a zero, without knowing he is near to the same but by another name, a circle having the absoluteness of the Absolute while I am only an arc. 

                        The frail withered rose opens my eyes. My opulence is now null and void. When I ransack for my beauty I fall into the abyss of my nothingness .The beauty of the freckle faced toiler, the lean and lank gardener and the downtrodden driver aggravates my emptiness………..

By

Mrs. Lily Luke, TGT(English)    

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