An established mind

 

Rashe fell like a log after drinking too much. He carries a bloody, self-healing scar on his temple. I point it out and he informs me, ‘I have promised myself not to drink anymore.’ ‘When did you make the promise?’ I ask. ‘Yesterday,’ he answers. ‘Should I distribute prasad that Rashe has quit drinking?’ I ask him. ‘Please wait! Even if I quit, others won’t allow me to stand by my decision,’ he says and looks at his friend standing nearby. The promise met its end on the second day and he celebrated the evening in the usual way. ‘But I promise not to fall anymore,’ he said to me the next day.

Rashe is strictly against hoarding anything and would take only as much as it fulfills his requirements at the moment. A meditative present-moment liveliness. Offer him something extra and he says, ‘But there is no need of it.’ Ganja and liquor are an exception though. He would take as much as you offer. I tried to force an extra kitchen stand and a redundant, but in perfect condition, ceiling-high tin tank for wheat storage. Someone in his place would have smartly calculated their resale values and would have happily grabbed the opportunity even if these weren’t needed in his house. But Rashe is beyond such calculations. He rejects the offer because he doesn’t need them. And schemes like taking them and selling aren’t appealing to him. He but carefully inspects two aluminum pots, suspiciously scans them and says his mother will welcome them in her kitchen. The kitchen stand is squarely rejected. I leave it in front of my gate and when I go to check it after fifteen minutes, it’s missing. Someone in need, or even sheer greed, has taken it.