DEVTA

 

         "Devta¹  has died."

         The news spread in town like wild fire. The smoke of hopelessness and uncertainty was widespread.

         The people still remembered that period vividly when their days of ease felt short and their nights of misery had begun to appear unending.

         When their children, strong men and the aged had started to crumble from the inside:

         their hearts had saddened;

         the fire in their spirits had lost is glow;

         the settling ash on their bodies had reached their necks;

         the fragrance from their characters had dissipated;

         and their eyes had lost their lustre.

         The whole town was enveloped by a cloud of gloom.

         When people tried to look into the depths of their souls they saw only ashes-

         Neither had they any yearning nor any dream,

         And they nurtured no storm in their life’s stream,

         There were no sparks, nor burning fire

         Just a coat of ashes covering their entire being.

         Then one day a stranger told the people that far from that town, in the foot of a hill, lived a Devta whose nearness would rekindle their torch of life.

 

____________________________________________________

¹       In Hindu/Urdu it means God, a demigod, a holy man or a good man.

 

         The people travelled hundreds of miles until they reached the foot of the hill, where the dwellers from many other towns had gathered to receive the gift of renaissance from the Devta.

         The Devta was a tall, long-haired male whose face gleamed with the zest for living and whose eyes glowed with warmth. He wore a long gown, his speech was eloquent and had a rich timber to it. Devta greeted each man, woman and child with a smile, shook their hands, talked to them, embraced them and sent them back home with his blessings.

         That nearness to him induced new hope, courage, strength and excitement in the people.

         When the people returned to their town the ashes which had smouldered in their souls changed to embers. Each person brought with him a new desire, dream, or devotion.

         In this way the ashen faces of the people slowly began to beam with life's sheen and joy.

         In the life of the people of that town the joyful days became longer and sorrowful nights shorter.

         After that whenever the warmth of their soul slackened they would go to the hill and pay a visit to Devta.

         Then one day came the news that Devta was dead.

         Whole crowds of people went rushing to the mountain in whose bosom that Devta used to spend his days. There was no Devta to greet them, only his corpse waited for them. But before his death Devta had left a message for the people, written with his finger-tips in the moist ground. The message read: "Every person among you is a Devta."