Cooling Burns! 15 Years or a life time to heal?

(I wrote this in memorium to Dabwali fire vitims the same year in The Tribune!)
Cooling burns
One full year has elapsed when flames wrought havoc in Haryana’s Dabwali town. While many of the affected people are now denizens of heaven, more are there who deserve our indulgent and heart-felt sympathy. These survivors have all those days and months suffered the trauma, and have “lived” like the “spared-ones”. Says Longfellow, “Know how sublime a thing it is; to suffer and be strong”. Yes, the sufferer lives in the present, shivers at the thought of the past and craves for a ray of hope.
The flower and the thorn both receive the honey-dew, yet the petals avaricioulsy try to engulf and hold the cool and shiny drops. While the thorn may not be able to accommodate the dewy droplets, it does have a cooling, dampening ‘sensation’. Well, this may be the difference between life and death.
We were in our small house preparing ourselves to celebrate Diwali last year when a cracker burst in my hand. It was a blinding experience, and when the smoke coiled up I looked at my hand, with the entire skin gone. Writhing in unbearable pain, I put the hand in water. They took me to the doctor and all his ointments and sedatives left me feeling the pain still, except when the hand was kept dipped in cold water.
Continuously for more than 36 hours the burning sensation left me crying, shrieking. Dear survivors of Dabwali, the cooling of burns was definitely a matter of time.
And O’heaven-dwellers who “rose” from that inferno, do drop on the survivors like what follows;
My mother died about a decade ago. Since then my home has become my house, with my lonely father striving to readjust to the changed situation. He has built s samadhi or my late mother in our small orchard. Some plants, including creepers, have grown there and a small grassy carpet, just by the side of the samadhi provides the lap-comfort to me.
The other day when I was wrestling with some knotty problem I happened to visit my village. A sentimental fool, I was on the verge of breaking down when I craved for my mother’s lap, and I walked towards the samadhi.
Half in tears, I plucked a flower to offer to the soul of my mother by placing it on the samadhi. I put the flower on it and, with folded hands, stood in obeisance to my mother. It was June, the hottest summer month. My mother, who used to console me with her blessings, was not available to me.
Suddenly, as I was standing with my eyes closed. I felt some sort of coolness above my head. I looked upwards, to the sky. To my utter surprise, there was a lone cloud above me. I was thrilled at the presence of that floating cloud as its shade gave me the same comfort and cuddling solace as one would get from one’s mother’s blessings and caressing.
I still wonder where from did this cloud appear in that clear hot sky! I am reminded of Shiv Batalvi’s following lines:
Joban rute jo be marde, ja(n) koi karma(n) wala:
Joban rute jo be marda, phull bane ya tara!
You are with us O’dead (?);
We are with you O’survivors (?) !
pic:
http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3026/3359151705_2f73821303.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.flickr.com/photos/10659472%40N02/3359151705/&usg=__tgstaksUAYIBOrpEd2ywbj2HygA=&h=375&w=500&sz=77&hl=en&start=0&sig2=QzcHqYeeXE74dnoEgVwNfw&zoom=1&tbnid=JI0EC0qYNDBfLM:&tbnh=117&tbnw=156&ei=3r0STb3aB4-GvgP-1NmWDg&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dburnt%2Bface%2Bpics%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26biw%3D1259%26bih%3D524%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C171&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=115&vpy=172&dur=281&hovh=194&hovw=259&tx=170&ty=116&oei=vr0STZrmIILNrQfx7NjICw&esq=8&page=1&ndsp=23&ved=1t:429,r:16,s:0&biw=1259&bih=524