Stone Soup

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Stone Soup

         Once upon a time a kind old stranger was walking through the forest when he came across a village. But as he entered the village he saw something very strange. The villagers were scared and started moving towards their homes, and closing their doors and windows.

    The stranger could not understand this behavior of the villagers. So he smiled and asked, ‘friends how come you all are so frightened of me. I’m just a traveler looking for a safe place to stay and a warm heart for a meal.’

    But the villagers looked at him apprehensively and said, ‘there’s not a bite to eat. The whole province is under famine. As a result we have not eaten and have grown weak and even our children are starving. So you better keep moving on.’

     ‘Oh! You needn’t worry. I have everything I need.’ He said. ‘In fact I was planning to make some stone soup to share with you all.’ And with that he pulled out an iron cauldron from his luggage and filled it with water and began to build a fire under it.

    Then, in a ceremonial fashion he drew an ordinary looking stone from a silken bag and dropped it in the water.

    This spread a rumour about food. When, most villagers came out of their homes or started watching from their windows. As the stranger sniffed the “broth” and started licking his lips in anticipation. Is, when, hunger started overcoming fear in the village. 

    ‘Wow! What a soup!’ said the stranger, ‘I love this tasty stone soup.’ And of course, stone soup with cabbage—is hard to beat.’

    Soon a villager approached hesitantly. He was holding a small cabbage he’d retrieved from his place of hiding and dropped it in the pot.

    ‘Wonderful!’ cried the stranger. ‘You know, I once had stone soup with cabbage and a bit of mutton and believe me the dish was only fit for a king."

    The village butcher managed to find some mutton and dropped it in the pot. And so the stranger went on and on. When, the villagers one by one dropped potatoes, onions, carrots, mushroom and some other vegetables and lentils until there was a sumptuous meal for everyone in the village to share.

    The villager elder offered the stranger a great deal of money for the magic stone, but he refused to sell it and decided to continue with his travel the next day.

    But as he left, the stranger came upon a group of village children standing near the road. He gave the silken bag containing the stone to the youngest child, whispering to a group, "It was not the stone, but the villagers that had performed the magic." 

Moral of the story:  There is no alternative to team work and team spirit.

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     The story is based on Marcia Brown’s 1947 children’s book, Stone Soup 1947

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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 I knew for sure. This ever changing world around me will only keep changing. But I just didn’t know how much. Ever since, you left us, on this very day, many years ago. I have stayed off Lucknow. And after a long time I’m home around this time. Thinking, I would sight the change myself. So, on this serene and dismal morning I went out for a morning walk. Pursuing, quite the same route. That, you once frequented. And it gave me a feel as if I was following the same trail that you had left behind.

     To be frank I wasn’t surprised to see. The surroundings have really sprung up to the hilt leaving, no niche for that stilly calm. The flow of river Gomti has receded and it isn’t what it used to be in your times. It has thinned down. Like the plait of an ageing lady. The chirping Gauraiyas are nowhere to be seen. And no one knows where they have gone. Did you see them by any chance? Did they come to you? Meanwhile some Gods have grown in stature but some remain where they were. The temple of Hanuman Setu has exalted both in pomp and spirits, just like you. But the small Shivalaya near the banks has only greyed. It still emanates that salt and pepper looks. The overarching, Banyan tree there, has spread all around the Shivalay. As if, protecting, the God of the poor, residing in it. That reminded me of the days when you protected all of us.

     The chauraha has become quite psychedelic as everything out there has changed. The famous samosawalla—Phullu who had his makeshift shop in the middle of it is no more seen—the samosas are there but the walla has changed. No one knows where he has gone. Some say he is no more. One, Good Samaritan has converted her home into an institution. I wish. Many were like her.

     The chauraha gossips are no more vociferous. The morning newspapers have changed and with that even the feel. From Swatantra Bharat it is now Dainik Jagran and some others. What has grossly depleted over the years is ‘time.’ People don’t have time but enough to whine. Morals have declined.

    Even in the faint trickle and rustle of the holy river. I could hardly hear the serenading calls of the joyous koel in the colourful months of spring. That used to be so piercing earlier. It has been overtaken by the roar of the swarming vehicles thriving on the embankment. That sadly pollutes the vicinity, all along the scorching day. Lots of people walk up to the newly resurrected Mandirs, Ashrams and even a Masjid nearby for peace of mind. Perhaps, someday, their temples within, shall also rekindle to the call of the Almighty.

    Most bright children in and around have left for good. I now only find their parents whiling away their time in obsolescence. Is when, I wonder what I got from you and what I gave to my child. If the equations are not comforting peace shall always elude me.

    So much has changed over the years. Yet a few things haven’t changed. Just as, the day and night take their turns. The sun still rises and the rain comes when it has to come. Seasons too, alternate when they have to. And more importantly the chord we struck will never ever change.

    What I continue to learn from you is pillars should not change. But they should allow change.

    May, you rest in peace.

    By Kamlesh Tripathi: Homage to Babuji (K.P. Tripathi). He left us this day in 1984.

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WHATSAPP CHAT GROUP

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So much time they have—In other words a universe of a time. One chat message and there are ten responses, and then the domino effect starts—for I can’t be left behind, says the egocentric mind. I’m talking about the whatsapp group in our RWA. Where, one gets to feel as if the whole society has become a beehive—inhabited by a swarm of predatory flies. Thriving on some lethal one-upmanship—where the killing field is the chat box itself. As and when, you flag an issue. The views of members start flooding in instantaneously even when they are variegated. Normally, they display cool courtesy. Occasionally they trade nagging heat and at times they even explode. But there are many fire tenders to keep the situation under control.

    The chat moves at the speed of sound if not light. After all, it houses a powerhouse. Where, most are domain experts, some the last word, few are litterateurs and writers. Not to forget the DJs, digital and security experts, and the event managers. And needless to say that everyone is a Mr know all.

    You are constantly on guard. At the beep of those frequent chat notifications. Irrespective of the fact, whether you’re in office or in the cool confines of your home. There is always an issue at hand. Blown out of proportion by excessive interaction. Where, every member has to make a superlative comment—meri kameez tumhare kameez se ziada safedhai. Or at least you need to be in the circuit to remain relevant. So at least do send a thumbs up. The quantum of notifications is so much. That if you wish to read them all. You’ll not have time for anything else. 

    Every minute there is a notification. So it is democracy at its best. Issues could be halkaor even routine. But viewpoints need to be weighty with a tinge of metaphysics and farsightedness. Considering the legion of scholastic personalities residing in the society.

    But where will all this lead to. Frankly speaking no one knows. As most are shooting from the hip. But I guess it’s about time to lay-off for some time. To, do something more relevant, soothing and satisfying. And let the society be in the safe hands of too many cooks. Hopefully they won’t spoil the broth.

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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Rahul Gandhi and the teachings of Bhagwad Gita

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

That one man who follows Gita to the hilt is Rahul Gandhi. Can you imagine the amount of failures

he has had in his political career? Countless! I would say. Yet he sticks to his guns which is his political career. For, he truly believes in karma alone. Where, he doesn’t look for success in his deeds.

    But, can you imagine. The manner in which. India ridicules this great young man. Even, today, with the great disaster of Uttar Pradesh tied around his neck. He was busy meeting farmers from Tamil Nadu.

    So, isn’t it amazing. The way our media and citizenry ridicules him, no end. I will withdraw this post of mine. If anyone shows me a media clip praising him for his political career until now. Yet he continues undeterred. So there is much to learn from him while in adversity.

    And last but not the least. It also speaks of we Indians and how much we practice Gita. Well if you go by this analogy. You won’t find too many Indians praising him for doing his karma alone. Rather everyone is critical and even jocular about his failures. So are we practicing Gita in the true sense?

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By Kamlesh Tripathi