the essence of simplicity

the red sandstones carvings of the fort radiate a dull effect to the bright back ground of extremely clear blue skies and the perpetualy dazzlingly bright sun of the rajasthan skies. The grass in the manicured lawns of the fort looks parched for some moisture and I could actually empathise with it because just looking at the surroundings made me long for a few drops of rain ,that was rare in this part of the country..i sit up at the mansingh palace having my morning tea and hoping it the sun doesn’t dehydrate me by the mid morning, for I have places to go . a tentative step outside into the balcony of the fort confirms my imagined heat extrimities and I had half a mind to go back into the plush Four poster bed with a history of 400 years , sink into the cool covers, while the air conditioning does an overtime to sooth all those blisters on my skin that the sun so mercilessly put upon me . as I lookout for some hope that would make my day just a bit easier , my gaze met with a a strange looking man ,clad completely in white with a funny cap,that looked like a enlongated version of the chef’s cap, only there wasn’t any babrbeque going outside the gates of the fort. He was wearing what you call the kurtha pyjamas, but his kurtha was just more feminine than necessary with an umbrella cut that the women of delhi would love to experimentwith . to me it looked like more of a touristy stunt that the hotels like to pull upon their guests so that they could get a effect of the local culture. I usually scoffed at such attempts for the simple reason that I was indian enough to understand a part of the ingrained mentality of ours even if I did not belong to the same region .i still was contemplating (ever so strongly ) on my visit to the nearest dargha( an Islamic shrine built over the grave of a revered religious figure ) .the palace tourist guide remmonda this place ,and the wanderer in me doesn’t want to give up yet, even if all the odds are aligned against me . I walk towards the dargah which about a 2km (on anythother day it would seem like a short stroll but today I was regretting my decision not to hire a plush air conditioned car )and just like it would happen in a clichéd Bollywood movies ,the skies roll with big dark clouds and thunder rumbled threating a torrential pour that would more than sooth the parched sandbed of the river Luni.i sped my walk even more now to escape the downpour more than the heat, and I encountered directly with the same strangely dressed man ,who was outside a palace a few minutes ago.”aap dargha ja rahi hain? “(are you going to the dargha ?) he asked me,”haan(yes)” I cautiously replied all the while walking in a speed ,short of breaking into a run . he was keeping up with me and as I neared the dragha he introduced himself “main moulvi takbeer hoon ,aur apko dargha ke andhar le jaunga “(im takbeer and I would take you inside the dargha .seeing the hesitation written all over my face he immediately added “appko mujhe kuch bhi dene ki jaroorath nahi hain “ you don’t have to give me any thing “.i smiled at him and walked away ,thinking that I wasn’t that gullible enough to be conned .but he walked along with me anyway. The scent of roses overwhelmed my senses ,the bustling noise of the traditional maket selling the religious souviginers and the ocaasional sweet shop which sold by the kilo as an offering to the shrine was a sight. I had to wade my way to the entrance gate throught the sea of people who were all rushing towards it because of the uncertainity that the skies presented to us. The moulvi still stuck around me and I wasn’t able to shake him away. The chaos around me was reassuring ,that I was in the right track although I knew I was lost.lost both in the literal and the metaphorical sense and for some reason I kept searching for a familiar face . the moulvi called to me again and I thought I’d give it a try ,if I was conned , I actually woudnt have been the first person to be so at a religious place in india . He steered me towards the inner sanctum and the simplicity of the place was well, dazziling. There was nothing in the inner shrine other than roses and a marble pedestal.i has to cover my head, for it was against the Islamic beliefs to show your hair. I did not question their beliefs for once and did as said ,for it seemed to wrong to disturb the effect of peace and quite that was achieved in the inner sanctum ,inspite of thousands of people walking in and out of that place . the moulvi began narrating the history of the place to me along with its importance in the sufi muslims. I was believed here that when you enter the inner sanctum that you have to enter it as a humble being and only an honest persons deepest desires would come true .as an athetist I simply visted the religious places on my list in search of some specatural architecture ,material for photography or an occasional good coversation .but standing there admist thoudand people I couldn’t help wonder about the simplicity of my surroundings and just like that ,the skies has made their decisions and it started pouring . big fat drops of cool rain that made the people scramble to the nearest shelter. I stood there in , right in the inner sanctum ,even though I was being pushed by the people around me only to realise that sometimes finding your self is not about wandering. That sometimes a few moments of peace even admist the crowd, trusting a stange person with a funny hat and respecting another’s point of view ,even though you would have millions of aurguments on another day was all that was meant to be . The rain makes the peacocks (who looked woebegone until now ) dance with abandone while the white marble background made up for dazzling stage .their show is as spectacular as the broadway,maybe even more because , life is about simple things, like the moulvi who asked for nothing but basic trust and respect for his beliefs while I entered the place he refered to as the abode of god. And I couldn’t deny it ,because sitting their ,sipping my hot chai ( the weather had turned around and now cold winds were gusting against my head scarf ),watching the peacocks put on a show I realised that maybe sometimes trust ,belief and an open heart were all that was needed to understand something better.and that the most cynical and egocentric mind would always be more inspired by simplicity than a gullible one !