It was an evening and I had to rush to NIZAMUDDIN DARGAH, after our theatre rehearsal, with some friends of mine, who had to run to various destinations for reasons of their own.
I reached the Islamic sacred place and could not hear the 'famous' music. The Qawwali which begins at 6 pm. There was unwanted peace.
No Music, no rhythmic claps, just a curious crowd around the monument.
Had we missed the music. Were we so late? How could we be so careless? With these question we were beginning to turn, and suddenly out of no where, emerged a HARMONIUM, the Indian instrument which the singers played while singing.
We were on time. Yup!
And a blink of time the whole atosphere had turned musical with people giving 10 rupee notes to the singers. I meditated for a while. I could see my friends and they could see me. I was happy that we had witnessed the brilliant music, but every time I came there, I would give ten rupee note, but I did not feel like,
I don't know why.
May be it was 'cause of the fact it was a bunch of rich singers singing.
May be 'cause that they were all young.
May be... I didn't feel like donating at all.
We all got up, I did not go (feel like) going inside.
As we were walking out I saw this on to the other side, I saw an old man lost in the music, just clapping. He looked poor. He looked spiritual, and he was sitting far away from the sacred place, but he could clearly listen to the music.
He was lost in himself for sure.
He looked sacred to me. I gave him tenner. He was not even begging. He was definitely poor.
He looked into my eyes, and with the qawwali playing in the background, he blessed me. I bent to take his blessings.
He was scared, but he put his hand on my head.
And with a content heart I lef the 'sacred' play.
The qawwali kept plying...