So many things happening. Most important. Despite everything on my plate I did manage to have my annual Joy of Giving-Serve Your Servants Day in 2017 as well. It is the last time Iwill ever have it at my old residence in Shivanand Gardens. In December I moved from there. Finally found the garden I have been longing for. A huge 2000+ square feet of garden. Love it.
But buying it was such a horrendous experience I lost all of 7 kilos. Moving in, all by my old faithful self was harrowing. But finally I am almost settled.
Yesterday I managed to get out in the SRP campus for a morning bike ride. The weather is so beautiful, just now, cool with just a hint of the hail that struck Amravati. Stopped at the Vitthal-Rukmai temple to join palms and to stretch hamstrings. An old man, a really old man came up.
"Look, this is the way you do it," he mumbled through shrivelled gums stretching out his dhoti clad bones in a suryanamaskar.
"How old are you Baba?"
" I will be a 100 years old in 2018. Was born in 1918."
I made suitable noises.
Perhaps encouraged by my smile, the old man put out his hand, "Can you give me some money for tea?"
I refuse to encourage begging. Particularly in a man twice my age and twice as limber.
So it was a firm no.
"Where do you live?" I asked. "No family?"
"I have a house in Azad Nagar. " said the centenarian. " And a son who worked here in the State Reserve Police. He's retired now. He gets a pension, has a few properties, gets rent as well. But he doesn't want me around. Says, don't stay here. Nothing for you here. But where to go? So I come here, to the temple as soon as I wake and stay here till dark," Hawked, shook his head, "And spread my hand out before strangers."
No moral to this story.
But buying it was such a horrendous experience I lost all of 7 kilos. Moving in, all by my old faithful self was harrowing. But finally I am almost settled.
Yesterday I managed to get out in the SRP campus for a morning bike ride. The weather is so beautiful, just now, cool with just a hint of the hail that struck Amravati. Stopped at the Vitthal-Rukmai temple to join palms and to stretch hamstrings. An old man, a really old man came up.
"Look, this is the way you do it," he mumbled through shrivelled gums stretching out his dhoti clad bones in a suryanamaskar.
"How old are you Baba?"
" I will be a 100 years old in 2018. Was born in 1918."
I made suitable noises.
Perhaps encouraged by my smile, the old man put out his hand, "Can you give me some money for tea?"
I refuse to encourage begging. Particularly in a man twice my age and twice as limber.
So it was a firm no.
"Where do you live?" I asked. "No family?"
"I have a house in Azad Nagar. " said the centenarian. " And a son who worked here in the State Reserve Police. He's retired now. He gets a pension, has a few properties, gets rent as well. But he doesn't want me around. Says, don't stay here. Nothing for you here. But where to go? So I come here, to the temple as soon as I wake and stay here till dark," Hawked, shook his head, "And spread my hand out before strangers."
No moral to this story.
