A humble milkman visits our home since last twenty six years. He is seventy three. Yesterday he informed my wife that he had built a temple in his village, all with his own money and requested both of us to visit the opening ceremony of the temple, which falls on Shiva-ratri day today. He made such a soft and courteous request that we both felt like going to his village. In fact, it was the first time in last so many years we asked his name, so that we can locate his place in the village. We were feeling guilty, that we should have known his name earlier. That is the way we city dwellers are. We label people whom we meet daily with their profession as milkman, washer man, and sweeper and then we call them with the name of their profession, rather than with their sweet names.
Finally, we reached the place where he had built this temple. It was deep inside a village lane. We had to leave our car on the road and walk all the way in the lane. The lane was narrow but was all carpeted with curtains covering both the sides. The temple idols were still sitting outside as they had just been dipped in a temporary water pond and were waiting for the priest for some more rituals. A person in the village had already informed our milkman about our arrival and he came running all the way. He offered us the fruits as 'prasad'. He also insisted us to visit his house which was nearby. As we entered his home we could feel that this person was feeling extremely proud. Actually his house was quite palatial, much bigger than our house. He showed us every room. He insisted that we should see his drawing room, which had a big screen LED television. The kitchen had the modern smoke chimney. He also told that his children and their families live in these modern rooms and he still takes the wooden cot lying in the verandah at the ground floor. With us he came out to main road and showed us his four wheelers and the garage for the same. Since I had a small car, I was not willing that he should come along with us till the point it is parked. But he saw us off till the parking point. All this time, he remained extremely humble, uttering every word with respect. Obviously on our way back, I and my wife were trying to analyse destiny versus education, conversion of farming land to residential property, city and village habits and many similar topics. And, before I stop keying in more words, I did take photograph of the stone he had put outside the temple, which inscribed "In memory of my parents".
Dr. Sunil Ji Garg.
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