Abasaheb Shinde "Punyatithi"

It is Thirty Six years since my father Abasaheb passed away in a car accident, early morning on 20th. Jan. 1972. He was Forty Five. Just the day before he had been selected by the Indian National Congress Party, as a candidate to contest the Maharashtra State Assembly Elections. It was a dream come true for him as he had been denied the "ticket" a couple of times before. This time famous personalities like Dilip Kumar, and Yashwantrao Chavan had pitched for him. His election was a forgone conclusion, as the Miraj constituency he would be contesting from was a very strong INC stronghold.

I was just Fourteen then, and studying at Belgaum. I remember the day very vividly. My mother came to school at around 10 AM, and requested my teacher to allow me to leave with her. She had obviously not been told about the tragedy, she just knew there was an emergency and we were to go to Mhaisal. The moment we reached, home, the impact of the happenings, hit us like a tornado. My father's body was brought in a long concierge, after a procession both in Miraj and Sangli, where (we were told later) people went into a deep mourning. I remember touching his feet, and being surprised at their coldness. By convention, I should have creamated him, but my family felt I was too young to do so.

A lot of time has elapsed since, but the loss is still acutely felt by not just his family, but by many whose life he touched, throughout the Sangli District. Today his statue stands in Kisan Chowk at Miraj (which was innaugarated by Dilip Kumar, Yashwantrao Chavan & Vasantrao Dada Patil, in 1975). His busts have been installed at Sangli & Mhaisal. A Memorial also stands at the exact spot of his accident near Digraj (Sangli). A road in Miraj and a Square has been named after him by the Muncipal Corporation.

To me he will always be an idol, whom I will try my best to emulate.

"Soham"

Early every morning, my grandmother or mother, would draw 'Rangoli' on our doorstep.
We as children, still not fully awake, would sit on the steps yawning, and observing the intricate shapes materialise from the thin stream of the 'rangoli' powder flowing between their thumb and fore finger. The patterns they drew, though from memory, were quite intricate. Some times they would be straight geometric, and at others curvaceous. Some times they would first create a grid, and at other times they would do without one. If they felt particularly happy, they would draw a curvaceous stem with a couple of leaves and a lovely flower. Sometimes the flower would be a rose, at other times it would be a "Jaswand", and some times off course a purely imaginary one. The rangolis were rarely coloured, even when they were, they were done so, with only light colours used sparingly. After the drawing had been accomplished, they would invariably write a word or phrase below the 'Rangoli', most of the times it would be an invocation to the various Hindu deities, but some times a phrase like “Soham” or “Om Tat Sat”, would be written. We convent educated brats hardly had an inkling of the profundity of it's meaning. I, once asked my grandmother, what it meant, the answer she gave, is still fresh in my mind. She explained that every thing around us was part of a whole, and that whole was itself Brahma (The Creator Himself). The whole "Cosmos" was "Bramhand" and "Brahma" and "Brahmand" are one and the same. She then told us the rationale of not inflicting pain on
any thing animate or inanimate, human or otherwise, as it would be like hurting oneself. She said that was the reason we did 'namaskar' (an obeisance), when accidentally our feet touched someone, or something as inanimate as a book, as that namaskar was not meant for that person,
or thing, but to the divinity within. This was in essence the philosophy of "Advaita"

Interestingly though Western Philosophy is 'materialistic' and 'dualistic', this concept of 'oneness' pops out sometimes through their literature. An example that comes to my mind is the poem
by Jone Donne,
"No man is an island, entire of itself .
Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind;
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.",
which was immortalised, when Hemmingway used the line “For Whom the Bell Tolls”, as a title for his lovely book.

In today's world, if we revert to the old teachings of "Oneness", We for sure, will all come out, winners.