All World
Gayatri Pariwar

On our way today we saw the weeping mountain. Its stone was soft. Some spring water was blocked above and had no means to pass through. The soft stone began to absorb it, but where will the absorbed water go? It was seeping through the mountain rock. This seepage, when accumulated, began to fall down in drops. People’s fertile imagination called them the drops of tears. At places where wetness accumulated, soil particles carried by wind got stuck and soft green moss began to grow there. Moss is called KicaÃa in the hilly language here. When the mountain weeps, its eyes must be aching as the result of which KicaÃa is excreted by its eyes. This is a simple imagination. We saw this weeping mountain today and wiped its tears, too. We felt the moss with our fingers. We could only do this much. Who would ask the mountain as to why it was weeping? And if asked, could it have replied?

But imagination is uncontrollable. Mind began to ask the mountain. . "Oh! Mountain King, you are blessed with so much of wild beauty and grandeur. You do not have to wander here and there. By simply sitting at a place you are enjoying your existence. Then what is it that worries you? Why do you weep?"

The rocky mountain stood silent. But the mountain' in my imagination began to talk. "How can you understand the pain I feel in my heart? I am very high, am decorated with nature's beauty and am living without any care and worries. Apparently I have everything, but can this inert, indolent, inactive life be called a life at all? The life devoid of movement, action, struggle, hope, enthusiasm, effort etc. is akin to lifelessness. The joy lies in action. To remain eternally rooted at one place is different from enjoying rest after activity. Mine is the peace of the graveyard. No sensible person will call it rest or happiness. Those who play on the playground of nature, feel more and more fresh and energized as they play on. Every moving life form in nature marches ahead like a valiant warrior, vanquishing one opponent after the other. On the contrary, here I am sitting pretty hoarding the wealth of natural resources and exhibiting splendor. Dear child of imagination, you may call me rich, wealthy and lucky but I am simply inactive. Others leave their indelible imprint on the pages of history, by serving others with their talents, earn eternal fame and feel proud on seeing others getting benefited by their deeds. But I have hoarded like a miser all the resources within myself. If I emit the mossy excretion through my eyes due to weeping out of self-pity, there is nothing to be wondered at."

My little imagination conversed with the Mountain King and was satisfied with the imaginary explanation by it. But at the same time it was sad, too. The imagination wished how nice would it have been had it (mountain) made pieces of itself and offered these to be used for making roads, bridges, buildings etc. In that case it might not have looked high and huge or it would have even lost its identity as a mountain, but its life would have been fruitful and accomplished. Being deprived of the ¬chance of such sharing, it is only natural that the Mountain king was weeping over its misfortune.

Sheep, which is a small animal, is indispensably benevolent Kamadhenu (the heavenly cow which fulfils all desires) for this mountainous region. It gives milk, wool, and lambs. It also carries loads. On the way today, a flock of sheep numbering about 100 to 125, having long wool, were seen loaded with goods, They were carrying goods like jaggery, rice, flour etc. to Gangotri. Depending on its height and capacity, each sheep was carrying load weighing about 10 to 15 pounds. Apart from mules, sheep is the only means for transporting goods in this hilly region. Other animals or vehicles are of no use on these hilly paths.

I began to think:  It is not necessary to stress on the availability of mega means to solve the basic problems of life. A man can live happily and peacefully with meager means. Limited industrialization is acceptable. But big industries would grab the livelihood of these sheep as well as the people who depend on them and all the wealth would be concentrated in the hands of a few industrialists. The root cause of all the war clouds hovering over the world today is the insatiable greed for capturing and monopolizing the markets for industries.

On seeing the line of sheep, I began to wonder why it is not possible to live peacefully by adopting simple life style with limited means like these simple innocent folks who tend the sheep and live on their limited earnings. In olden days, India followed the ideal of decentralization. —rishis and munis (Saints and Sages) lived in hermitages forming a unit. Villages were integrated, interdependent, socially bonded units. They mostly fulfilled their requirements from within their own area, from their own society and lived happily in co¬operation. There was little scope for corruption, criminality or inharmony. In today's mad race of industrialization, villages are being uprooted; small portions of cities are flourishing; the poor are being trampled upon and the rich are growing richer through manipulative and foul tactics. The terrible machines roaring like demons are destroying the health, social relations, and morality. Unbridled industrialization, and capitalism, which are being called the pillars of modern developmental process, will eventually lead to violent social upheavals.

My thoughts are getting incoherent. So let me stop this discussion here. But the sheep cannot be forgotten, even if tried to. They remind me of the ancient social system prevailing in India. In the present culture, who will consider the utility and helpfulness of the poor sheep? These poor creatures will only be ridiculed as a symbol of old era. Yet truth will remain the truth. For actualizing humanity’s dream of universal peace and contentment, power and resources will have to be decentralized and in that system everyone will be living happily and contented by one's own labor, just as the sheep-tending folks along with their bleating sheep are living here.

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