Mann lagyo mero yaar Fakiri me!
Author: Rachit Sharma
My eyes were unable to hold the diverseness of the lustrous colours under the huge pandaal. Men and women garbed in most beautiful and shrill attires had come from far off lands to celebrate Kabir and his candour. It was the same day when we had arrived to this scarcely inhabited but extremely illustrious village of Luniakhedi. Having travelled whole night, we had desired some rest but soon realized that when devotion comes into being then desires decide to rest.
Soon we seeped into the loving and organised chaos of thousands of people servicing each other out of sheer love. The wide barren fields of Luniakhedi were giving way to furious wind that would ruffle our hair and show us the splendid horizon which we hadn't seen for a very long time. Somebody shared that she could listen to her steps stirring the grass, that was the glorious sound of silence. Silence was shortly turned into sensation and I was introduced to music and its power all over again.
That night held several jittery moments with festivities which seemed never ending. The singers, musicians, percussionists had evoked the spirits of the audience with their high notes and higher magnanimity. The very next morning awakened us with tea and fresh tamarind which we relished sitting outside a beautiful hutch.
We were ready to take on to the world with some extremely kind and gifted people accompanying us in the bus journey. One can imagine the zestful galaxy where enthusiasm knew no bounds. When folk and dholak jammed with rock, guitar and mandolin, our hands did not stop thumping the seats and our heads spined with every beat which was casting a spell in our hearts.
The long journey was meeting its end but not before exhibiting the red ball of fire shying behind the windmills which were erected on a protracted range of granitic mountains. The highway never felt this divine. I shared with a fellow traveller that these are the best moments soon to realise that I uttered same words for the last experience too. I ruminated , either each experience is getting more enriching than the last or I have finally started to seize the fringes of the present moments if not the soul. I found myself immersed into a path from where back tracking is impossible, the more you get, the more you want. Suddenly the backdrop hustled and I was yanked out from the deep thoughts by a song of Kabir that competently captured each of my thought at that very moment, " Mann lagyo mero yaar Fakiri me " as I said no turning back.
Isn't that right, to pay the present its due? Isn't life all about empowering the very present moment?
That night when we reached Bhanklau, Khargon, I experienced an unprecedented event when our bus turned to the colourful sea of people showering in utmost light in the night, the sea rushed towards us with garlands and raining of petals. That was the moment I basked in the wonderful radiance of the admirable artists. There, we were lovingly fed by the villagers who taught us the rightful meaning of hospitality and warmth. Out of all the diversity, uniformity across Malwa was entrenched either by the delightful colours or the dead spiciness. The celebrations and performances occupied the whole night with grateful villagers enchanted by their 'Guru'.
In all the five days of our journey, I do not recall sleeping more than five hours a day. The bus always greeted us like home with road bumps being the pillows and talky travellers being the alarm clocks. Our itinerary would intermittently mark strong-tea and poha halts. Our journey took us to Devas, Bhopal, Indore and with each passing day we were becoming more engaged as a family. That little bus accommodated different people, different energies, different sources of inspiration and of course different ways of living one life.
This journey taught me that with great passion also comes greater kindness. The immensity that some people hold is not just because they love their craft but because they value compassion, they value humanity.
I realised that being the straight-from-the-shoulder character, Kabir would not mind if I construe his 'fakiri'. 'Fakiri' incisively is doing what you love while keeping the flame alive that says THIS is the only most powerful moment.
Soon we seeped into the loving and organised chaos of thousands of people servicing each other out of sheer love. The wide barren fields of Luniakhedi were giving way to furious wind that would ruffle our hair and show us the splendid horizon which we hadn't seen for a very long time. Somebody shared that she could listen to her steps stirring the grass, that was the glorious sound of silence. Silence was shortly turned into sensation and I was introduced to music and its power all over again.
That night held several jittery moments with festivities which seemed never ending. The singers, musicians, percussionists had evoked the spirits of the audience with their high notes and higher magnanimity. The very next morning awakened us with tea and fresh tamarind which we relished sitting outside a beautiful hutch.
We were ready to take on to the world with some extremely kind and gifted people accompanying us in the bus journey. One can imagine the zestful galaxy where enthusiasm knew no bounds. When folk and dholak jammed with rock, guitar and mandolin, our hands did not stop thumping the seats and our heads spined with every beat which was casting a spell in our hearts.
The long journey was meeting its end but not before exhibiting the red ball of fire shying behind the windmills which were erected on a protracted range of granitic mountains. The highway never felt this divine. I shared with a fellow traveller that these are the best moments soon to realise that I uttered same words for the last experience too. I ruminated , either each experience is getting more enriching than the last or I have finally started to seize the fringes of the present moments if not the soul. I found myself immersed into a path from where back tracking is impossible, the more you get, the more you want. Suddenly the backdrop hustled and I was yanked out from the deep thoughts by a song of Kabir that competently captured each of my thought at that very moment, " Mann lagyo mero yaar Fakiri me " as I said no turning back.
Isn't that right, to pay the present its due? Isn't life all about empowering the very present moment?
That night when we reached Bhanklau, Khargon, I experienced an unprecedented event when our bus turned to the colourful sea of people showering in utmost light in the night, the sea rushed towards us with garlands and raining of petals. That was the moment I basked in the wonderful radiance of the admirable artists. There, we were lovingly fed by the villagers who taught us the rightful meaning of hospitality and warmth. Out of all the diversity, uniformity across Malwa was entrenched either by the delightful colours or the dead spiciness. The celebrations and performances occupied the whole night with grateful villagers enchanted by their 'Guru'.
In all the five days of our journey, I do not recall sleeping more than five hours a day. The bus always greeted us like home with road bumps being the pillows and talky travellers being the alarm clocks. Our itinerary would intermittently mark strong-tea and poha halts. Our journey took us to Devas, Bhopal, Indore and with each passing day we were becoming more engaged as a family. That little bus accommodated different people, different energies, different sources of inspiration and of course different ways of living one life.
This journey taught me that with great passion also comes greater kindness. The immensity that some people hold is not just because they love their craft but because they value compassion, they value humanity.
I realised that being the straight-from-the-shoulder character, Kabir would not mind if I construe his 'fakiri'. 'Fakiri' incisively is doing what you love while keeping the flame alive that says THIS is the only most powerful moment.
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