One day as I was coming down the road on my way home, after my classes in the college were over, I heard loud wailing of a woman. Usually no adults in this part of the world wailed so loudly. If someone had to wail she normally stifled or at least muffled her sound of crying fearing what people were to comment or think of her. But that day was not a usual day for that woman. She had no such considerations or restraints in her. It was a loud heart wrenching cry. I stopped in my track to investigate the reasons of such commotions and crying. So I left my path and proceeded in the direction from which the sound was coming.

The house from which the sound came was nearby. As I neared the house I saw her. She was sitting on the floor of the house which was completely open on one side, having no doors. She sat there, her back to the path. As I peered over her into the house, following the direction of her look, I saw a boy of 12 or 14 lying on the floor on his back, his eyes closed as if in deep sleep, his face calm and serene but no breathing could be discerned from his unmoving belly and chest. Some incense were burning over his head and a few flowers were strewn on and around him. Some women and children were sitting there surrounding him. Obviously the woman who was crying loudly was his mother. I wanted to see her face and take in myriad details of that situation. So even though there were no males present inside the house, I went past her into the house and sat on the floor beside the boy, facing both him and his mother.

What I gathered from the woman’s wailing and children sitting there was that the boy and his father were trying to bring down a very thick mud wall, only a few feet away from the place we sat, which became redundant due to remodeling of the house. As the father on one side and the son on the other side were pulling and pushing the wall with the help of crowbars, the wall came crashing down on the son. The wall proved too heavy for the shocked parents to move aside and before help could reach, the boy was dead before the unbelieving eyes of the dazed parents.

Like all accidents this one too had happened in the twinkling of an eye. To the parents’ incredulous eyes the accident had happened as if in a dream, as if they were in a bad nightmare which was in no mood of coming to an end. In her helplessness, as women do everywhere, she wailed loudly to feel her loss in her heart and soul, to make others understand the enormity of her loss, to show others her despair, her wronged sense of justice at the cruel hand of fate and of course how loving, caring and good her son had been. She was a Bengali refugee from East Pakistan, now Bangladesh, rehabilitated in a refugee colony in Orissa, in the eastern coastal state of India, near my village. So while she wept she simultaneously narrated her grief, her life situation in Bengali. Even now, after so many years of the incident, I am haunted by her words “manush ki kare?” “What can man do (against the onslaught of the fate)?”

To such a heart wrenching situation I was ushered in by the fate for reasons too deep for me to find or fathom. I saw it all, I felt it deeply. Especially I cannot forget till my last how the woman for some seconds abruptly stopped crying as she saw me, a stranger but educated from the appearance, stopping by her son. For a moment she must have thought that I could bring her son back to life by some miracle of faith or science. Our eyes met for a moment during that silence and very quickly she must have read my helplessness from my eyes. So she resumed her wailing soon after. But to me those silent moments of her expectations were so real, dense and palpable that as if time had frozen for me, as if those terrible, silent moments extended into eternity. I was equally helpless and undone in my sorrow at her loss. I was unable to console her; I just simply didn’t know the words. I stood up from the floor and mustered enough courage to go to the woman and said very gently, ” Mother, please don’t cry anymore. The one who was crushed under the wall was not your son only; he was God Himself in the form of your son. Can He ever die?” As I said that I was overwhelmed with emotions of such intensity that I wept uncontrollably and left the place in a hurry.

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      Rebecca Artful Heartful Thank you for this deep and sacred sharing of this story Paresh. Weeping with you. 

      August 13 at 5:38pm · Unlike ·  1 person

      Nana Trianasari Oh,,, Thank you Pareshji for sharing your story. People said that God plays hide & seek.. One day He comes as a friend, family…or anyone we know or we love…and another day He in the form of our beloved ones disappears forever for whatever reason… But the love is stilll there..that we may find Him in others…another friend, a new member of family… Even in death love lives on.. Doesnt He want us to realise that He is in everyone and thus we should love everyone..? 

      August 13 at 7:10pm · Unlike ·  3 people

      Steven Steensels Dear Paresh. I thouroughly appreciate your letters. When expressing our ideas through sentences, the clarity of the former depend on the precision we give to the latter. And that’s precisely what you are doing 🙂 

      August 13 at 7:31pm · Unlike ·  2 people

      Carmen Pentek Oh, beautiful, Paresh. When I lost my daughter today in the mall I thought I might never find her again. I was just hoping that she did not run outside to the street… Also here I was distracted for few seconds only… 

      August 13 at 10:51pm · Unlike ·  1 person

      Amal Gupta Yes, life is like that…. very touching…. I am speechless 

      August 14 at 12:04am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Irene Bradle Thank you for sharing this heartfelt story. I consider you to be not only my friend, but also my teacher. Blessings to you, always. 

      August 14 at 1:12am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Adriana Hill this is a story about how we grieve our deepest griefs, and you have just offered another powerful perspective of the cycle of our “visits” to this planet which we call mortal life..if strangers can evoke this recognition in you Paresh, you are a very powerful teacher! 

      August 14 at 1:14am · Unlike ·  2 people

      Denise Burley 

      Beautiful…All lessons are sent to us, and in this your lesson was felt within your open-heart…You see love does that… It opens the door and extends, it heals, if only for a tender moment. it offers an ear, a tender smile, an honouring…See More
      August 14 at 1:30am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Unity Walker Wonderful story–God can never die! Thank you, Brother Maharaj ji. 

      August 14 at 1:46am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Ishvari Lockhart ♥ 

      August 14 at 2:54am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Diederik Wolsak a moment of grace, thank you 

      August 14 at 3:12am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Tim Hartman Only a person truly tuned into their own unity could feel something this strongly and recognize it for what it was…as you did Paresh. I have seen people unable to acknowledge their own grief or that of another as they aren’t in touch with themselves. That grief gets suppressed, and often becomes anger which is at the base of depression. Feeling is an expression of unity. Thank you for constantly stimulating and challenging me with your words. 

      August 14 at 6:21am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Shira Lee ‎~ Beautiful…..thank you! ~ 

      August 14 at 7:33am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Grace Ana Kenealy Deeply, deeply touched. Thank you…namaskar ♥ 

      August 14 at 7:56am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Julia Day 

      Such perfect Wisdom came through you Brother, a healing in profound tenderness for all of us who dream of death… Thank you in Oneness ♥ 

      from Autobiography of a Yogi: ““Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus. . . . When Jesus heard that…See More

      August 14 at 9:22am · Unlike ·  3 people

      Joy Anna Oh Paresh this is an incredibly painful beautiful experience and brings gratitude tears to my eyes… thank you dear One heart for sharing this
      ((((((( ♥ ))))))) 

      August 14 at 9:37am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Evelyn Aung-Thwin Thank you Julia, for taking the time to copy the text of Sri Yukteswar’s experience. So beautiful. Jesus said in the Bible that we would heal others, even better than he had. Few believe it. Healing comes in many forms. Paresh, your walking in and sharing the agony of this mother’s experience was healing also. 

      August 14 at 10:22am · Unlike ·  1 person

      X Lyn Johnson Thank you brother for reminding me of my own divinity. Thou art God. 

      August 14 at 11:26am · Unlike ·  2 people

      Sudhir Jain very very touching story Paresh and yes here starts the query first Why Me? and what was my fault? and comes a deep longing for meaning and logic, but can we find one ? 

      August 14 at 1:59pm · Unlike ·  2 people

      Eva Koval dear Paresh, so beautifully expressed….god being crushed by the wall, god crying out in sorrow for losing its form in the name of the son…love it ♥ 

      August 14 at 4:35pm · Unlike ·  1 person

      Irene Rhodes Your writing is gentle, charming and beautiful. :0) 

      August 14 at 6:12pm · Unlike ·  2 people

      VictoriaRose Denham ‎((((((( ☼ )))))))) 

      August 15 at 12:36am · Unlike ·  1 person

      Lori Schwegel You are the most eloquent and perceptive friend I have known in a long time.. We can all walk away from this story changed! 

      August 15 at 4:09am · Unlike ·  1 person