This was a few years ago at a family outing: In front of me were mountains with clouds resting on them, I looked at their sides gently tapering down to the valley below where the Krishna river flowed unconcerned and unperturbed by the grandeur above. From where I sat in an ancient balcony overlooking the valley and hills, I saw trees of every green hue and colour. And from branches alongside came morning cries of a hundred birds, each cry so different, so wonderful to hear.
It had been a long drive the day before to reach this place but the experience was pleasurable, and what was once an eight hour drive was done in five, or less.
Maidstone, the bungalow nestling the cliff, which belonged to the family of an aunt of mine couldn’t have been in a better location; what a view as nature let me caress her, gave me glimpses of times when man breathed air so pure, they intoxicated my poor lungs so used to petrol fumes.
My daughters came with their mother, stood with me and looked at the spectacular view I was becoming possessive about, I wondered what they were going to say, children of the city that they were, “Dad it’s beautiful!” said the younger and then became quiet and in their silence I saw that nature’s awesomeness had touched their hearts.
And then the scream!
“What is it?” I shouted, concerned.
“Look!” said my elder and pointed to the ground, where a black creature repulsive and fearsome crawled towards her. I took out my shoe and smashed it, but it still moved, I hit it again and yet it tried to crawl ahead.
“It can’t be killed!” shrieked my elder.
I hit it harder till it lay still, it’s poisonous tail lifted in angry rebellion.
In front of me were the same mountains, same clouds, same river, but suddenly the mood had changed. There was fear in the room. The black scorpion had walked into our peaceful setting like a terrorist with a bomb strapped onto itself. “Why?” asked my little one, “why in the midst of such peace should such horror exist?”
I pondered awhile and as I wondered; the mountains, the valley, the river and the sounds suddenly seemed to draw closer. The joy which till now was far away came to envelope me. The sounds of the birds, the squirrels running on the roof, the sight of purple flowers so divine in its beauty made me sigh with contentment.
I looked at the dead scorpion and suddenly realized sadly that it is only when we see the horror of terror do we appreciate fully the joy of creation. Terror makes us realize the thankfulness of being alive. Evil makes me long for good. Sorrow makes me grateful for happiness.
When I’m afraid, through the awesomeness of nature, I feel the strength of God!
The mountains smile as if I’ve understood a truth only a poisonous scorpion could tell me..!

******************************************

IF YOU WANT TO RECEIVE BOB’S BANTER EVERYDAY, PLEASE SEND YOUR NAME AND WHATSAPP PHONE NO TO [email protected]

******************************************