35 Rose Buds

A Painting and a Story #3
I can sit on the sandy sea-shore and watch the waves make and break endlessly, without a thought in my head. The sea has this effect on me. As a kid I spent the years 1965 to 69 in Madras (now Chennai). We stayed driving distance from the beach and my father (I call him Anna) took us to the beach every Wednesday. Now I wonder, why mid-week? To avoid the weekend crowd? To give my Mother a mid-week break? Or he had no meetings that day?
Anyway this hour at the beach was a time when we shared stories, played ball with my father, ran with a noisy kite, ate ice-cream and came back refreshed. On one such evening my Amma shared this narrative.

It is early 1953. Anna has come with a retinue of relatives to 'see' my mother. Elaborate preparations are made to receive the important guests. Sajjige (sooji halwa) and bonda (bajji and pakoda) is ready. Coffee is waiting to be made and served. Everybody is talking to everybody!
No one notices that my 4 year old cousin, my father's nephew, is missing from the hall. He soon makes a grand entry and my then 18 year old Amma gasps in hidden dismay! The 4 year old's plate has neither sajjige nor bonda (perhaps discarded hastily behind the rose bush?). The boy walks to my Amma and offers her 35 rose buds that he has diligently plucked off the lovingly nurtured pink rose bush in the front-yard! Amma is desperately trying to hide her tears! Her precious roses! Apologies are made, kids will be kids.... they all say. I turn to Anna and say, 'that must have made her so sad'. Anna replies in his cryptic way, 'You are only as sad as you allow yourself to be'. I dismiss that with a shrug of a 10 year old. 

It was years later that I came across these Sanskrit lines  'Aathmaiva aathmano bandhu, aathmaiva ripurathmanaha...'     This means: We are our own friend, and we are our own enemy!

That's the worst kind of enemy as there we have no defence against this one! In Paradise Lost, poet John Milton says ... The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

We are now in 'Selfie'culture. We rarely have the inclination to look beyond our noses! We see an action, and instantly build up stories in our mind and react like an erupting volcano! Bitter experiences linger on longer than we deserve to hold them. Thankfully Amma saw the adorable intention behind the rose buds! Like Anna said -You are as sad as you allow yourself to be. 

Here is an Oil Painting - The Beach - for all those evenings at the Madras sea-shore.

The Beach - Oil Painting