Autumn Leaves

“Kindness out of pity. Would that hurt someone more than simple pity? But is there a difference? To give money as charity to someone needy on the road. That would be one case. Seeing an old lady struggling to sell her wares to make ends meet; going and specifically buying something from her instead of, say, the shop nearby. Who would be hurt more? Perhaps the old lady because she still has dignity and she knows that the kindness of people is out of pity. But that would be assuming that the other person receiving the charity had no dignity to begin with. Which is wrong. Perhaps he has become used to it? Immune to feeling hurt? Maybe. But may not be true. Maybe she has become immune? May be not. Dignity. Everyone is entitled to it.”

Such were my thoughts as I stood on the road waiting for someone. It was Autumn. An Autumn evening with its charm but my thoughts were about a different kind of Fall. I was inside the Institute campus and the road was empty, lined by old trees shedding their leaves.

I was strolling slowly making it a point to step on leaves and crushing them with my shoes. I am not sure if I really like it or not. It brings up questions and images which confuse me at times. What if a child comes along shortly afterwards, steps on the fallen yellowed leaves and fails to hear the crunch because I had already stepped on it? Wouldn’t the child be heartbroken? Would it not be an early, rather too early, a lesson to real life? I guess I am being ridiculous.

I am transported back to my childhood days. We had a house-help in those days. She would have hardly been 18 or so. Frankly, I do not know. My memory from those days is mostly gone. Her name is not really important. Let me call her Boe. I remember my mother making her sit down and go over my books with her so that she would learn to read and write. She did not resent it but did not like it as well. Maybe she was indifferent. Or maybe I never saw the truth. Sometimes I wonder…do children ever see the truth? I don’t think so.

One day I was walking with her. There were fallen leaves on the road and I was stepping on them, perhaps relishing the crunching sound. At some point, I asked her why she was deliberately avoiding the fallen leaves. I think I saw her face become grave. Then Boe began to tell me something that I did not really understand back then.

Boe told me that the leaves had souls in them. Even the fallen ones. When a leaf fell from the tree, like it did in Autumn, it was similar to one of our dear ones who was inching closer to moving on to a different world. The yellowed leaves are the old ones that are dying. But they are not completely dead. They are silently talking to the alive ones as they surround the dying. They are telling the young ones the story of their leaves. Leaving behind their legacy. When they are done, they die. If you step on them, they won’t crunch. Their souls would have left. But if you crunched their souls, their young ones would never have said a proper goodbye. They would remain heartbroken.

A leaf fell down in front of me and I stepped on it. It did not make a sound. I smiled silently to myself wondering whatever happened to Boe. She got married at some point and I never heard anything about her ever again. I didn’t even know where to look for her if I wanted to. I am sure neither one of us would recognize each other even if we met. Her face is blurred in my memory and I have changed too much.

As I walked a little further ahead, I saw a small pile of yellowed fallen leaves. Someone would have swept them to one side. I stepped on it and heard the collective crunch of souls, dreams, and humanity. I let out a sigh. Dignity. Everyone is entitled to it.

- Parekh, Pravesh

November 23, 2014

03:15 AM – 04:08 AM

NIMHANS