Kapil was back from his annual leave and was resting in his room.
He looked exhausted. His body was aching, and he seemed a little unwell after the hectic travel.
(Knock at the door.)
“Hey, Kapil!”
It was Kartik, his younger brother.
“Got to know you’re back, so I came to see you,” said Kartik. “How was your holiday? Hope you had a great birthday.”
He smiled.
“But I keep thinking… how do you enjoy going to the same place every year?”
“It was good,” said Kapil.
His voice was unusually low.
Kartik looked at him closely.
“You don’t look so well. What happened?”
Kapil took a deep breath.
“Well… nothing new. It’s the same old thing.”
He tried to smile.
“It started off well. A warm welcome… music… great food.”
His eyes lit up for a moment.
“They took care of me royally.”
A pause.
“And my diet too.”
“Ten days of royal treatment!” said Kartik with a smile.
Kapil nodded.
“Ten days…”
Then his smile disappeared.
“…and one day I dread.”
Kartik looked at him.
“The last day.”
Kapil lowered his eyes.
“Or should I say…”
His voice became softer.
“…I have been dreading it for years now.”
“Every year, I go with a hope that this time things will be different.”
He swallowed hard.
“But every year…”
A long pause.
“…I come back disappointed.”
(Kartik gets annoyed.)
“Then why do you have to go every year, Kapil?”
“If they can’t keep up the same commitment, why do you keep going back?”
Kapil looked at his brother.
“It’s not like that, Kartik.”
His voice was gentle.
“They wait for me the whole year.”
“They prepare for my visit.”
“They get everything ready.”
He smiled through his sadness.
“They are so happy when I arrive.”
“I cannot disappoint so many people…”
He paused.
“…because of a few.”
“That wouldn’t be fair.”
(Kartik gets furious.)
“Look at your joints!”
“That swelling must hurt.”
“If they love you so much, how could they do this to you?”
Kartik looked at him closely.
“I can even see that you have a fracture!”
Kapil remained silent.
(His eyes slowly fill with tears.)
“You’re right, brother.”
His voice trembled.
“They wait to see me off…”
He paused.
“…but they don’t wait until I’m out of sight.”
His eyes filled completely.
“I just wish…”
His voice broke.
“…they would turn back.”
“Just once.”
“To see…”
He struggled to continue.
“…if I was safe.”
Kartik’s anger disappeared.
He looked at his brother with concern.
Kapil wiped his tears.
“What happened to me may heal in a couple of days.”
He took a deep breath.
“But what I saw…”
His voice became heavier.
“…will remain with me forever.”
A long silence.
“And that…”
He looked down.
“…saddens me.”
Another pause.
“…and angers me the most.”
Kartik moved closer.
“What did you see, Kapil?”
Kapil looked at him.
His eyes were full of pain.
“People consumed liquor at my farewell party.”
Kartik stared at him.
“And some of them…”
Kapil struggled to speak.
“…even misbehaved with the ladies.”
He lowered his head.
“It was shameful for me.”
“I could neither hold my head high…”
His voice cracked.
“…nor could I hide myself.”
Silence.
Kartik looked at his brother, unable to understand.
“What are you talking about?”
Kapil slowly looked up.
And then…
the truth.
Kapil is not just a man returning from a holiday.
Kapil is Ganesha.
Your Bappa.
The one who comes home every year.
The one who is welcomed with love.
The one who is worshipped.
The one who is fed.
The one whose arrival fills homes with happiness.
The remover of all obstacles.
The giver of unlimited happiness.
And yet…
At His farewell…
this is what He sees.
But Kapil has one more thing to say.
His voice is now barely a whisper.
“Also…”
He pauses.
“…the mother water.”
“She has been polluted with POP and toxic substances.”
“She is getting choked with plastic.”
His eyes fill with tears again.
“And they don’t realise…”
A long pause.
“…that they will soon be the reason for their own end.”
(Silence.)
For ten days, we call Him Bappa.
We welcome Him with open arms.
We celebrate His arrival.
We pray to Him.
We ask Him to remove our obstacles.
We ask Him to fill our lives with happiness.
And when it is time to bid Him farewell…
do we stop to think about what He sees?
He sees the liquor.
He sees the misbehaviour.
He sees women being disrespected.
He sees His own body being damaged.
He sees plastic choking the water.
He sees toxic substances being poured into the very Mother who gives us life.
And perhaps the most painful part is this:
Bappa may heal.
His wounds may heal.
His fractures may heal.
But what we do to our Mother Earth cannot always be undone.
So this year, before we say…
“Ganpati Bappa Morya!”
Let’s pause.
Let’s look back.
Let’s ask ourselves:
When Bappa turns around after we bid Him farewell…
will He see that we cared enough to keep Him safe?
Or will He see the damage we left behind?
Because maybe…
Bappa doesn’t need us to prove how much we love Him when He arrives.
Maybe He needs us to prove it when He leaves.
what a way to start the day…it brings tears…year after year the same mistake committed…I hope some day better sense prevails…
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