The auto driver, the dogs, the cats, the tea shops

Morning walk. Daughter points out five cats sitting on the wall. She says that another few were lurking behind the wall, and would come when the auto came.

That every morning the auto driver came with two large vessels of rice. Sambar rice, and curd rice.

And that at the auto sound came the street dogs would run down to greet him. That he would slow down, and some of the dogs would get in and ride back with him to the end of the road. Where other dogs and cats would be waiting.

And he would serve them all food.

Daily acts of simple goodness. Done simply. Unselfconsciously.

That I see daily. In the simple peoples of this land.

Who sustain the land with their simple quiet goodness.

And teach us lessons. The most important lessons. Of service. Done in silence.


...

Morning walk. I always slow down at the particular turning. Hoping for a glimpse of the auto.

The way people slow down at a temple. For a glimpse of gods within.

Today I saw the auto drive down. And the auto driver. With two cans of food. For the street dogs and cats. As he does Evey day. I saw the street dogs gallop to meet him. Waving their tails with exuberant friendliness. And the cats setting up a chorus of mewing on the wall.

He got off. Patted the dogs on their heads. And first carried a vessel of rice to the compound wall. Where the cats were mewing their anticipation louder and louder.

I walked on slowly. It did not seem right to stand and stare. At pure goodness.

Grateful at having had a glimpse of sacredness. Holiness. Godhood.

Acts of goodness, done daily, simply, in utter unselfconsciousness.

...

Every tea shop on the footpath. The ubiquitous blue painted handcart.

And the ubiquitous street dogs settled around the cart.

Dogs which belong. Which are owned up and fed. Content dogs.

Owned up by the tea shop owner who gives of his biscuits. As also owned up by every customer. The auto rickshaw drivers, the watchmen. All of whom buy extra biscuits, and feed the dogs as they also eat.

A village in a city. A place with heart. With humanity. A tea cart.

... And I wonder again where along the way it evaporates. As we climb the ladder. Into the lonely bubbles of social heights. And where and how, all these simple answerabilities, simple sharings, done in utter simplicity, get lost along the way.

...

Morning walk.

The girl who cycles on the cart with the two huge bins of trash. Collecting trash at each home. A girl of radiant beauty, whose looks my daughter admires each day.

As we passed her today, she opened the large packet of biscuits as she does each day. And gves to each road dog at the crossing, it's share. With a smile, a word, a pat on its head.

And every day I am reminded anew of what real richness is and what real poverty is.

... and each day reminded to strive harder.