Every time I go to visit the departed friends at the cemetery, myriad thoughts cloud my mind; I know most of the persons resting in peace here at Dhyan Ashram, some of them had been my teachers, some 'father-figures', some guides; some of their words still ring in my ears. I remember great Leeming; whenever I would ask him how he was, he would tell me that he felt better when he saw me! He was obviously naughty at that age. There is Timmermans, who had a soft-heart for me, during the first year in Calcutta! (In 1984, only in Bangla, it was called Kolkata), much to the embarrassment of many of my companions. And Ernst, who liked telling me stories of missionary activities! And printer, builder Rosnar, who had told me so many times the same old stories of his hunting!
Some I know, get frightened when they visit the graveyard, as if by visiting they invite death to themselves! Far from it, it is a reality that everyone has to be prepared for! But for me it is always a pleasant experience to stand for a while before many of the familiar men, and even whisper something dear to me. It is an invitation for me to enter into their lives, a life that age could not stop. Many of these men, who have offered their lives for God and people, have become immortal in the hearts of the hundreds of men and women whose lives they had touched. They are truly immortal.
I can see the earth, which is so very kind and generous to accept them back to her bosom; she would not like anyone, bird or beast to destroy their bodies, which she had gifted to the world, until they become part of herself! The mute witness to all that these men had done on earth, is again mute when it comes to vindicating some of them for the wrongs they might have committed. The world may take several years to really forgive, but for Mother Earth, she might ask us, forgive what! After all, she is the mother, who will never refuse home to her child!
I wish I have the luxury of time to sit in the cemetery and spend a whole day, speaking to all the persons whom I had known during their lifetime. I dont know if they would be delighted to do that with me, but I will surely be delighted to remind them of my sweet time in their company. And to have someone from the other side of the world is, always a matter of great blessing, because for one thing, I know their invisible presence will protect me from all danger and harm!
Today as I stood before them, there was one little prayer, though that happens to be sign of my selfishness. I want to imitate some of their noble qualities, which surely I lack to a great extent. Many of the men lying here were great stalwarts, and had done some thing marvellous for God and Bengal. When I turn to myself in their presence, I find myself quite small, but while beholding the tradition of which they were part of, I know all their collective strength and integrity will be my food for the way.
I know some of these men were saintly people. I would like to look up to Cukale, who had a peculiar way of pronouncing my name, and had a paternalistic approach to me; this great pastor was a saint, who loved to pain and write poems. When he used to pain the walls of this very same cemetery in 1997, I used to spend sometime with him there, appreciating his art work, which was not a great thing, but he liked doing it! Today I would like to place myself in his presence, looking at him and appreciating the simple works of art he created. I know this way, I will inherit at lease a certain amount of his saintliness.
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