1.Between Two Grindstones/ 2.One Stroke, All Accomplished
Jagdish Prasad Mandal (Original Maithili Short Story)
Rameshwar Prasad Mandal (English Translation)
1
Between Two Grindstones
The first light of dawn had not yet broken when Dhirendraji came striding home, his footsteps echoing with a determined dham-dham. The weather was pleasant. It was the end of the month of Phagun, and unlike other years, there had been no cold wave. True, a breeze from the east was blowing, but its gentle pace made it feel comforting.
Only half an hour earlier, I had gone out for a walk, to take in the fresh morning air. The paths were smooth. Three years ago, a paved road had been built from the National Highway leading into the village, flanked on both sides by ponds. The pond on the southern side and the one on the northern side, where in the last flood they had broken the embankment, had been filled and overlaid with the pitch road. Now, there was no trace of muddy slush anywhere.
Before that road was made, during the monsoon, so much water would collect in the breached pond that it stayed until late winter. Even then, it never entirely stopped people from crossing, for they would simply cut across the adjoining paddy fields. There were few motor vehicles in the village, so even if water lingered, it did not truly block movement. When a Tonga or rickshaw approached, passengers would dismount and walk across the field, while the empty vehicle was pulled over.
The field-path crossing belonged to someone or the other, and the landowner might protest, but travelers never paid much heed. This was not a one-time occurrence, it had been happening year after year until three years ago.
When Dhirendraji reached my house, I was not there. Upon inquiry, he learned that I had gone walking toward the south. Taking his younger son along, he set off down the southern road to find me. By the time I was returning from my walk, I spotted him. Though we were still a little distance apart, I recognized his face. A thought crossed my mind, why would Dhirendraji come so early in the morning? I knew him well enough to greet, but we had no deeper connection.
Step by step, I moved forward; step by step, so did he. As soon as we met, I greeted him.
“Namaskar, Dhirendra Bhai.”
He returned my greeting with equal warmth. “Namaskar. I came here just to meet you.”
With a touch of appreciative courtesy, I replied- “It is my good fortune to have your darshan. Let us go to my house. We can sit and talk at leisure there.”
Dhirendraji walked ahead, and I followed behind. Along the way, we passed a pond. Around this pond, houses had sprung up on all four sides, and my own home stood on its eastern bank. Pointing toward it, I said- “Dhirendraji, you must have a pond like this in your village as well. But this one was not dug by the villagers, it was dug by a demon.”
Smiling, Dhirendraji replied-
“A widow or a demon, neither has disappeared. They still live among us in one village after another, just as they did before.”
The way he spoke was as if answering from his own inner reasoning, just as I had spoken. Yet his response left me uncertain about what exactly he meant. I kept silent.
By then we had reached near my house. At the doorway, I said- “Brother, this is the cottage of the poor. So do not trouble yourself with thoughts of honor or dishonor. It is my good fortune that someone like you has come to my home.”
In a firm tone, Dhirendraji said- “Gopikrishna, there is no such thing as fortune or misfortune. It is all part of the human play.”
I said- “First, have some breakfast and tea. Later, we will sit and talk in peace.”
Dhirendraji replied- “I never eat breakfast in morning. I eat once in the day and once at night. So I will not have breakfast, only tea.”
Insisting, I said- “You rarely come here, and today when you finally come, you say you will not have breakfast?”
Growing serious, Dhirendraji explained-
“Gopikrishna, I neither have a job that gives me a steady income nor my parents have pension I can rely on. So I live according to the means I earn for myself, and in that simplicity, I find my own contentment.”
Hearing Dhirendraji’s words, I felt convinced that his thinking was indeed of a high order. Just then my younger daughter, Kunti, arrived at the doorway carrying tea. Picking up a cup from the tray, I handed it to Dhirendraji and asked-
“Would you like some water as well?”
Dhirendraji said- “I am not really thirsty, but I will take a couple of sips.”
As soon as he spoke, Kunti placed the tray on the low stool, went to the courtyard, and returned with a lota of water and a glass. She poured water from the lota into the glass and offered it to him. After drinking, Dhirendraji remarked- “Just as the water in your tube tastes fresh, so does the water from my own tube well.”
He set the glass down on the stool, and we both began drinking tea. After two or three sips, Dhirendraji said- “Gopikrishna, you have not even asked why I have come here.”
Defending myself, I replied- “Dhirendraji, is that something to ask? We studied together in high school, we are friends. When a friend comes to visit another friend, how could I ask why you have come?”
By the time we finished our tea and set the cups back on the tray, I had taken out my betel box and begun to prepare a paan. Dhirendraji said- “Gopikrishna, I do not eat paan. You have it yourself.”
Feigning dismay, I said- “Dhirendraji, here in Mithila, paan and makhana are linked with our culture. Why should you neglect it?”
Without the slightest change in expression, Dhirendraji replied- “I avoid paan because it damages the teeth. The cultural point you have raised will not be upheld merely by chewing paan and eating makhana. Culture is like an ornament of life, something that adds beauty and dignity to living. And for that, our attention should be elsewhere.”
I asked- “What do you mean, Dhirendraji?”
He explained- “There is a saying in our villages that loose soil crumbles easily. Petty ideas will not be replaced simply by reciting grand ones. The culture of Mithila is one of universal brotherhood, yet in recent times we have dug so many unnecessary pits and ditches that we have damaged the very form of our culture. Like children who repeat the word culture over and over without understanding it, we get nowhere.”
I chewed my paan and offered two cardamoms to Dhirendraji. After placing one in his mouth, he said- “Today, in your village, meaning Bansbitti, there is a plan to hold a general assembly.”
Until that moment, I had no knowledge of this. Whether the idea had just occurred to him or someone had told him earlier, I could not tell. So what could I say? I simply replied-
“Whatever responsibility you give me, I will carry it out, will I not?”
Dhirendraji said- “Gopikrishna, the public here is asleep. They take pleasure in their slumber, and the looting class, like a mischievous goat kid, keeps patting them on the head to lull them into even deeper sleep.”
I could not fully grasp his meaning, so I asked- “What do you mean, Dhirendraji?”
He explained- “First, people cling to the glories of the past, and second, the clever members of the looting class encourage this attachment so much that people stop looking at the present altogether. Of course, everyone should know about the past, but to measure oneself solely by it and think of oneself as perfect is to deceive one’s own life.”
Still not entirely understanding, I said-
“Dhirendraji, please make it clearer.”
Hearing this, Dhirendraji reflected for a moment and said-
“Gopikrishna, just as time is divided into three periods, life too can be seen in three phases. The past is what has already gone by, which we call history. The present is the period we are living in right now. And the future is what is yet to come, the kind of life we want to create for ourselves.”
In grammar, I had studied past, present, and future, but always as measures of time. I had never thought of them as measures of life. This thought now struck me, and I said-
“Please make it even simpler, Dhirendraji.”
Dhirendraji said- “In our society, that is, among the people here, just as there are retellings and interpretations of the Mahabharata, there are also those of the Ramayana. People try to model their lives on these stories and indeed wish to do so. But just as the Ramayana belongs to a bygone era, so does the Mahabharata. These are accounts of life from thousands of years ago. Day by day, minute by minute, time moves forward on its own course. Life today should match the pace of the present age, yet that is not happening. People have developed a habit of either keeping themselves fixed in the past or getting lost in dreams of the future. There is not much time now to speak further. First, let us complete the work for which I have come, and then we can continue our discussions.”
He had barely finished when Duniyalal arrived. Duniyalal was my neighbor and also a graduate. As soon as he came, I said-
“Duniyalal, Dhirendraji is holding a general assembly in our village today, so you should assist him.”
Duniyalal replied- “Gopi Bhaiya, I am ready to do whatever you say, but first please introduce me to him.”
Hearing his words, I said- “Duniyalal, Dhirendraji is my high school friend. It is true that we have met today after fifteen years since high school, so Dhirendraji will tell you about himself in that gap. But I can tell you what our friendship was like back then.”
Duniyalal listened to me with interest, his ears alert, and then turned his gaze toward Dhirendraji, studying his face. Dhirendraji also looked back at him. I continued-
“Duniyalal, we both studied at the same high school. Dhirendraji was a science student, and I was an art student. Whenever a teacher was absent, Dhirendraji would take the class. The way the teachers taught, he would teach in the same way.”
Duniyalal said- “In that case, Dhirendraji must be quite a remarkable man.”
I said- “In the matriculation board examination, Dhirendraji had secured a good rank. What happened afterward, he will tell you himself.”
Duniyalal shifted his gaze from me to Dhirendraji. Dhirendraji said- “After matriculation, I enrolled at L. S. College. At that time, Mithila University had not yet been established, though there was much discussion about its formation. I passed Intermediate Science in the first division, with first rank. I took Physics as my honors subject. In B.Sc. too, I secured first place with honors, and the same in M.Sc.”
In between, Duniyalal exclaimed- “Wonderful, wonderful.”
Dhirendraji continued-
“Shortly after completing my M.Sc., I was appointed as a scientist at the government institute ISRO. After working there for six months, the institute dismissed me, declaring me insane. I left from there.”
Duniyalal asked- “If the institute dismissed you calling you insane, why did you not file a case?”
Dhirendraji replied- “Who is not mad in some way? Why should I get entangled in the snare of unnecessary cases and lawsuits? After leaving there, I got a job in the Physics Department of Darbhanga College. After working there for a year, they too dismissed me, again calling me mad.”
Duniyalal asked- “What do you do now?”
Dhirendraji said-
“I live in the village. My parents have grown old. I am the only one in the household. I have a wife and a son. Now I don’t want to do any jobs and service again. I will do social work.”
Duniyalal asked- “Will you be able to find satisfaction in social work?”
Dhirendraji replied- “Why would I not? Only those fail to find satisfaction in social work who have no issues before their eyes. But I can see the issues clearly. I see with my own eyes that society is so deeply asleep that it cannot even discern what is good or bad for itself. Helping it to understand the difference between good and bad, that is my service. With that thought in mind, I have taken this step.”
What Duniyalal understood of Dhirendraji’s ideas, and how much he grasped, only Duniyalal would know. Yet in my own mind I felt that the purpose for which Dhirendraji was trying to take a step forward was indeed something society needed. At that moment, Dhirendraji said-
“Gopikrishna, it is not good to spend time just sitting and talking. Let us first go around the village and inform as many people as possible that there will be a general assembly at two o’clock in the afternoon, and invite them to take part.”
The three of us, Dhirendraji, Duniyalal, and I, set out toward the village. We had taken only ten steps when we met Shyam Uncle on the road. Pointing toward Dhirendraji, I said to Shyam Uncle- “Uncle, his house is in Khairboni. He is our neighbor. Today at two o’clock there will be a general assembly in the village, so please be there.”
Shyam Uncle was about to respond when, in the meantime, Dhirendraji said- “You are a respected elder in every way, so please take the responsibility of presiding over today’s meeting.”
After a brief pause, Shyam Uncle said-
“If there is a meeting in the village, I will certainly be there.”
Dhirendraji said- “Gopikrishna, it will be difficult to go door to door and inform everyone, especially as time is short. Instead, let us go through the lanes, telling two or four people in each, and keep moving.”
Until now, only a handful of active individuals in the village had participated in social or political activities. The rest had kept their distance. Why they stayed away had many reasons, which we will not go into now. For the present, it is enough to say that after hearing Dhirendraji’s ideas, even those who had never attended a general assembly or any public meeting before agreed to come.
By eleven o’clock, the three of us had gone around the entire village. We told everyone we met and then returned home. Once there, I said to Dhirendraji,
“Dhirendraji, take a bath here, have your meal, and rest for a while. Later we will go to the general assembly together.”
Dhirendraji replied- “My home is not far. It will take fifteen or twenty minutes to go and the same to return. If I go, I can tell my wife that I will be attending the meeting and might be a little late, and I can also see my parents and remind them to take their medicines.”
Dhirendraji left. After he had gone, Shyam Uncle came and said-
“Gopikrishna, since it is a village meeting, we should be the ones to arrange for it.”
Hearing his thoughts, I said- “Uncle, that is indeed how it should be. You are an experienced man, how do you think we should proceed?”
Shyam Uncle said- “If we had known ten or fifteen days earlier, we could have planned everything properly. But since this was decided in a hurry, at the very least we should arrange seating for the people, a microphone, and tea and refreshments for Dhirendraji.”
I said- “Dhirendraji is my friend, so I will arrange the tea and refreshments here at my place. You all can arrange the seating for the gathering.”
Shyam Uncle said- “I have three mats of my own, and Ruplal has two large durries. If we borrow his, we can spread all five mats and durries in front of the school. That would be a good place to hold the meeting.”
In the middle of this, Duniyalal said- “Shyam Uncle, I will take that responsibility.”
Shyam Uncle looked at me and said- “Gopikrishna, since the general assembly is to be held in our village, we bear the responsibility to ensure that it runs smoothly. People should not have the chance to laugh at us.”
I replied- “When we all work with full commitment, that will not happen. The program is at two o’clock, so in the time that remains, we can finish all the preparations.”
Shyam Uncle said to Duniyalal,
“Duniyalal, come with me. I will speak to Ruplal, and you go with someone to fetch both my mats and Ruplal’s durries and spread them neatly in front of the school.”
I added- “There are several people in the village who own his loudspeakers. Choose the best one and ask the owner to play the national song from the start and make announcements in between.”
Shyam Uncle said- “Sohan’s speaker is the best. He bought it recently, and for a public meeting he will not charge anything.”
I said- “Uncle, he is your man.”
Shyam Uncle replied- “When the village is ours, are the people of the village strangers? That responsibility too falls on me.”
I said- “Uncle, we have only two to two-and-a-half hours left. In that time, we must also bathe, eat, and get ready, besides arranging the mats and the microphone. So let everyone get to their own tasks.”
At half past one, Dhirendraji arrived with Manesar, Rasiklal, and Pradeep. Taking all four with me, I went to the school. People had begun to gather in ones and twos. There were no women, but some female students from the schools and colleges had also come. Seeing the crowd grow, Dhirendraji’s heart was filled with enthusiasm.
The program began. Shyam Uncle took the chair as president, and at that moment, Dhirendraji said- “I would like to request the villagers that if anyone has a question in mind, they should raise it.”
I said- “Dhirendraji, this is the first day such a program is being held in the village. So let us not put the villagers on the spot. Please share your ideas clearly so that everyone can understand them.”
Shyam Uncle said- “Friends, Dhirendraji is presenting his thoughts, so, everyone, listen with attention.”
Dhirendraji stood up and said- “Friends, Kabir Das once said- ‘Watching the grinding mill, Kabir weeps. Between the two grinding stones, not a single grain remains whole.’ The flow of time is the most powerful force, and it is this that Kabir pointed toward. Yet people fail to truly understand it. We must reflect carefully on what these two grinding stones are and how people are crushed between them.
“Think of it this way: on one side is the king, and on the other is the pauper. The king is full to the brim with everything, while the pauper, the beggar, has nothing except his own body. Why is it that one human being is a king and another a beggar, when both are human? This is the inequality among people in society.
“Just as on one side are the wealthy, whose lives are filled with every possible possession, from homes and food to every luxury, so on the other side there are people who have nothing at all. No food in their stomachs, no clothes on their bodies, no shelter over their heads, and no means to meet the basic needs of life.
“This inequality is not new. Since the time human beings first appeared on earth, it has existed in one form or another. I will not speak here about the history of human origin. For now, it is enough to say that from the smallest village to the entire world, this inequality is everywhere.
“In the midst of this inequality, two classes have emerged: the oppressor and the oppressed. Because of this, human life has become worse than the life of animals. It has affected everything, including wealth, religion, desire, and liberation. Today, we have gathered here to understand this inequality clearly. Until such inequality is removed, human well-being is impossible. Though a person may be human in form, his life will remain far from what it means to live as a human being.
“In thought and speech, one may say that all people are human, that everyone’s life should be lived with dignity, that everyone’s needs should be met, that all children should be educated, that society should be harmonious. But these will remain nothing more than words meant to please the mind.
“Until harmony enters life, until everyone has the means to live, the situation will remain as it is today, where a handful of people enjoy abundance while the vast majority live in poverty. I appeal to all of you to recognize yourselves and fulfill your responsibilities. That is all I have to say today.”
2.
One Stroke, All Accomplished
For the past seven or eight days my mind has felt detached, estranged both from family and from society. This evening, after finishing my daily routines, I sat on the verandah and the thought rose within me that death would be better than such a life.
Just then my wife came with tea. I had not the slightest desire to drink it. She placed the cup on the low table before me and stood by my side. I knew she wished to talk. She would have spoken as on other days, recounting the events of the day, what tasks had been completed, which were left half done, and which had not been done at all.
I picked up the cup of tea from the table. Though my heart was not in it, habit compelled me to lift it to my lips. Every sip felt tasteless, as though all flavour had been drained away. Still, I forced myself to drink.
Seeing her standing before me, I understood clearly that she wanted to speak, but I had not the faintest urge for conversation. So I kept my mouth shut. Somehow I emptied the cup, set it back on the table, and she carried it away. Not a single word passed between us.
My mind had grown so bitter from the behaviour of family and of society alike that it seemed death was better than life. What needless entanglement had I fallen into? Neither the conduct of my own kin was good, nor that of the people in the community. To live in such a family or in such a society was to lead a life worse than that of an animal.
Inside, I was so unsettled that I felt I could die at that very moment. The thought kept rising again and again that death would be better than this life. Silently I began speaking to God in my heart, asking Him to grant me a single cubit of space. But what difference would my wishes make?
At last, when I could bear it no more, I thought that the night was still young. The first dusk had passed, the second had only just begun. Why not go to Manmohan Uncle and share all that weighed upon me? He was older and wiser than I, and his life experience was far greater. Surely, he would suggest some way forward.
In the meantime my wife, perhaps for the second time, appeared at the door with the thought of talking. But my heart, hardened by the ways of both family and society, had lost all desire to live even for another moment. She stood in the doorway before me, yet I did not even feel like looking at her. She too said nothing, though she knew well why she kept silent.
I rose quietly from the bench and set out for Manmohan Uncle’s house. As I was leaving, my wife asked- “Where are you going in the dark?”
I replied- “Nowhere far, just to have a word with Manmohan Uncle.”
She asked- “How long will you be?”
I said- “It will not take long. I will stand there, exchange a few words, hear his reply, and return.”
My wife went silently back into the courtyard, and I went on my way to Manmohan Uncle’s. I set out, but such darkness spread before my mind that nothing was clear. His house was not far from mine, so I felt no difficulty in going. In a rush of determination, I had left, but on the path sudden thoughts began to crowd my mind. I could not tell whether my feet were falling on the road or off it. My eyes felt shut, my senses dulled, and yet I kept moving forward.
I had no idea when I passed his house. Only when I had gone nearly two fields beyond did I suddenly come to my senses. Realising my mistake, I turned back toward his house. As I drew near, many questions kept stirring in my mind. At last I reached his doorway.
Manmohan Uncle was telling his wife-
“Just as everyone has his own duty, everyone also has his own limits. One must be mindful of those limits. Why step into another’s sphere and interfere without cause?”
Sudhiya Aunty, his wife, had been scolding her daughter-in-law. The reason was this: the little boy, her grandson, had reached for a glass of milk kept by the stove for making tea. As he tried to lift it to drink, it slipped from his hands and spilled. The boy’s mother, Kumudini, struck him twice, making him cry. Sudhiya Kaki became upset and said- “Why did you hit the child so harshly?”
Still irritated about the spilt milk, Kumudini replied- “If I don’t discipline a headstrong child like this, he will never give up his wilfulness.”
That was enough to spark an argument between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, and Manmohan Uncle, having heard the quarrel, was trying to calm his wife when I arrived.
Grief had so dulled my senses that I forgot even to greet him. As soon as he saw me, he asked-
“What brings you here at such an hour, Ramgulam?”
His voice seemed to wake me from my daze. I said-
“Uncle, I bow to you.”
He blessed me and asked-
“May you be well. But why have you come out in the dark?”
I said- “Uncle, when I see the ways of my family, and when I see the ways of the people in society, I feel death would be better than living such a life.”
How my words struck him only he would know, but he replied- “Ramgulam, do you think anything will happen just because you have decided it? Whoever is born on this earth will one day die. No one will consult you in the matter. So while you are alive, keep yourself alive.”
My heart was already heavy, and perhaps I lacked the mind to take in his meaning. Inside, I began to bristle with the thought: was the question I had come to ask Uncle the one I truly asked, or was it what he had said that I failed to understand and should have asked about?
Seeing me lost in thought, Manmohan Uncle said- “It is still evening. It is not yet so late that it is time for food or for sleep. Sit down quietly and tell me what you came to say.”
I replied- “Uncle, in the family I see that there is no love between anyone. Everyone keeps a grudge against the other. In society it is the same. People always say that service to others is the highest duty, yet they are constantly trying to pull each other down. Seeing this, I feel the same disgust toward society as I do toward my family. It makes me think that death would be better than living in such a way, witnessing such conduct every day.”
When he heard me, Manmohan Uncle pressed his lips together and began to smile. The smile stirred irritation in me and I wondered why he was smiling, but I said nothing. Then he spoke.
“Ramgulam, do you understand that a human being is incomplete?”
I began to think about his words. Until now I had believed that in both my family and my village I was the wisest, that what I understood no one else could see. Uncle’s thought seemed to be the opposite, so I asked-
“What do you mean by incomplete, Uncle?”
He said-
“As an individual, a human being is incomplete, but collectively, society is complete.”
I turned this over in my mind and could see no real difference between society and the individual. A society is a gathering of individuals, and an individual is a part of that gathering. The person is tangible, society intangible. When my thinking could not reach a conclusion, I asked-
“How is that, Uncle?”
As we were talking, Sudhiya Kaki came to the doorway with tea. At home I had drunk tea without wanting it; my mind had been too full of worry for it to bring any satisfaction. Here, I truly wanted to drink. Even the disgust I had been feeling toward family and society seemed to have softened. We both began to drink our tea.
After finishing, Manmohan Uncle handed his cup back to Sudhiya Kaki and said-
“Ramgulam, when you look at yourself with the whole world in mind, you will see that just as a single drop of water exists within the vast ocean, so is the place of the individual within society.”
I could not fully grasp Manmohan Uncle’s thought, so I said-
“Uncle, please explain a little more clearly.”
He asked-
“Have you been able to fulfil all your needs in life entirely on your own?”
I thought for a moment and realised that neither I nor anyone else meets all their needs alone. Still, unsure what he was getting at, I said-
“Uncle, please explain it even better.”
He said-
“You do your farming and produce food from your own fields, but for other things you have to go to the shop, do you not?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“And whatever you get from the shop is made by someone, is it not?”
“Yes, someone must make it.”
“When you fall ill, you go to the doctor for treatment, and the illness is cured, is it not?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You may fall ill yourself, but who cures the illness?”
“The doctor.”
“That,” he said- “is the collective body we call society. Society is made up of people of every kind, doing every kind of work. That is why society is complete, while the individual is incomplete.”
I said-
“Uncle, the way the people in my family and in society behave has burned me so much that I feel both the family and society can go straight into the cooking fire.”
Hearing this, Manmohan Uncle pressed his lips together and laughed heartily. Seeing him laugh only sharpened my irritation, but I swallowed it.
Then he said-
“Ramgulam, there are many kinds of illnesses that afflict society.”
At his words, I felt a faint stirring within, and suddenly I lifted my eyes to meet his. As soon as our eyes met, he seemed to understand and continued-
“Ramgulam, in society there is looting in the name of religion, exploitation in the name of social custom, exploitation in the name of divine wrath, exploitation in the condition of economic distress, and exploitation the moment one goes against the signals of landlord or master. There is also unrestrained exploitation of labour. All this has turned the colour of society dull and distorted. That is why you find society’s behaviour so low.”
Some of Manmohan Uncle’s thoughts I understood, and some I did not. So I said-
“And then?”
Clarifying his idea, Manmohan Uncle said-
“Just as the body has many organs, all working together to keep it alive, so it is with society. In the body there are healthy organs and there are weak ones, yet together they keep it in motion. In the same way, everyone has their own role.”
Without thinking, I said-
“Yes, there is such a role.”
Whether my answer brought him satisfaction or stirred some thought in his mind, only he would know. Smiling, he said-
“Ramgulam, you can see in the village that some people farm, some keep cattle, some are teachers, some are traders.”
I cut in-
“Yes, that is true.”
Manmohan Uncle said-
“Their work may be different, but they are all called part of the same village community, are they not?”
I said-
“Yes, they are part of the same society.”
Manmohan Uncle said-
“Each kind of work has its own importance, and everyone’s needs are met through one another. No single person can do every job alone, and no one can perform every task.”
I said-
“Yes, that is not possible.”
Manmohan Uncle said-
“According to his own interests, everyone should do one task suited to his own strength. This way one part of society is fulfilled, and harmony remains among all. That is what is meant by ‘One stroke, all accomplished.’”
Hearing this, my mind did agree, but when I looked again at the ways of my family and the ways of society, my anger would rise once more. My thoughts would not settle. I said-
“Then, what should one do?”
Smiling, Manmohan Uncle said-
“Each of us is our own master, each of us has our own responsibility. Just as you have yours, so do I have mine.”
I said-
“It is late enough for the evening meal. I will be going now.”
I rose to leave, but Manmohan Uncle said-
“Ramgulam, keep your mind steady. The more unsteady your mind is, the more unsteady society will seem to you, and the more unsteady your family will become.”
अपन मंतव्य editorial.staff.videha@zohomail.in पर पठाउ।