I WANT TO BECOME A MONK

Tired of becoming habitual to comforts and luxuries, I have finally decided to become a Monk. This life has made me a machine. We live in gadgets. We are living a life where one cannot live without AC, without a vehicle that has four wheels, without watching TV on a large LED screen, where we cook meals once and rest microwave serves an overheated food, and where the family stays connected through WhatsApp. Do we really deserve this kind of life? Is it life or is it living in a machine, like a machine? And then we search for vacation in search for nature, the natural nature, where we can see long trees, water bodies, farms, vegetation, rural art, traditional feelings and above all, less comfort.

Irony is, leaving a comfortable life we search for uncomfortable life, and we are ready to pay for it.

Searching for a life of a Monk, I decided to first visit my village which was quite far from the city in the state of Haryana. It was a journey that had good roads and concrete structures on both sides. But as I distanced from the city, the smell of my village had started bring smile in my eyes. The speed of the car increased. The AC was switched off and the windows were brought down.

Driving for about 5 hours, I finally reached my village. No tiredness. No fatigue. No nothing. I was glowing with happiness and satisfaction.

A number of young and elderly people were waiting for last 2 hours to welcome me. I was known by the name of ‘grandson of Pandit Sitaram’, my grandfather, who is no more now. I was asked by elders in the village to come out of the car and walk. More than the younger generation, I was known to elders of the village. I touched everyone’s feet and took blessings.  Old women, who I called ‘Amma Ji’ blessed me immensely. Their blessings can be felt within the heart, as if touching soul. Every home that I crossed and wished had something to offer me to eat. Without any hygiene issue, I tasted and relished.

My father’s distant brothers showed me the agriculture fields and the traditional methods of farming. It was a feeling that cannot be described in words. I was silent and watching everything and thinking why I came here after so many years; I should have come much earlier. We walked pass-through many agriculture fields and also plucked many raw veg and ate them. Tomato, beans and other veg were so much fresh. The natural flow of water was quite tempting and my elders immediately guessed it. I took quite a dip in the water flowing from a tube-well. It was being assembled in a ‘Jhor’ (a small pond). In the scorching sun, the water was still chilling cold. This is nature. It has its own checks and balances.

I had a good bath for about 30 minutes without the fear of scarcity of water. And now I was hungry, rather very hungry.

It was lunch time and people had arranged some ‘khats’ (the Cots) under the oldest tree of the village, it is about 100 years old. Its roots and branches are spread across many houses in the villages. A simple ‘khat’ (the Cot) was put with one wooden slab across for me to place the bowls and plates. I was served in a brass plate & bowl and brass tumbler for water. The chapatis were made by hand and were thick and the fuel was of cow dung. I was served chapatis with pure cow-milk ghee and Jaggery (Gur). And finally, one full glass of butter-milk.

I cannot explain you the taste of food as the words do not express taste. This food was something that we do not get in cities, even if the restaurant promises to give so.

The restaurants might put salt, pepper, and other imported spices as per the taste kin the food, but they fail to put the essence of love & affection and unintentional purity of heart.

After the lunch I had to speak to people of villages, who had assembled, and tell them about what I was doing and how I have progressed in life. It was a small walk to the village ‘Chaupal’ (the community centre). It was a small walk but was enough to digest the heavy lunch I had taken.

We all reached village ‘Chaupal’ and saw almost all the village was sitting there. I spoke to them about what I was doing, my family, my children and old memories. I also spoke about the difference of life in village and how we live in a city.  How they were living in the ‘palms of god’ and how we measure the pollution in the city through a sophisticated gadget.

The younger lot could not understand why I am liking so much village life as they all wanted to enter into the jungle of city. No matter how much I explained them, the city was always exciting for them and they wanted to move out of the village life.

It was time to leave and it was getting late. In villages you can roam anytime easily, but in cities, there is time for everything. In villages, everyone knows you. But in cities, you are still to find who lives next door.

I entered in my car with tears in my eyes, I was not able to inhale all this that had happened to me during the day. Suddenly, I saw my phone lying on the dashboard. I had forgotten to carry with me, throughout, when I went inside the village.

Guess what, there were not a single missed call, no WhatsApp message or mails. The phone was as dead as it should be.

I was deciding, what if we leave all these luxuries and comforts and live a life of a Monk. A Monk is a most happy person who has only to give peace and never asks for anything in life. Perhaps, being a Monk will make me have good sleep, no palpitation, no stress, no anxiety, no blood pressure, no hypertension, no cholesterol, and no heart-attack.  I will not depend of daily 8-10 medicines and perhaps the days will become longer and nights too.

You wait, the ever-ticking time machine will move anti-clock wise soon. Our peace of mind has been in pieces, that never joins. One day, we will thrive to live an ordinary life.

I had decided, I wanted to be a Monk.