I carefully placed the washed dishes on the rack as I contemplated on what the speaker had said yesterday. “We have to learn how to visualize unity in diversity. There is only one religion, the religion of love. God is one, therefore, we should not separate people through religion.”
I found it difficult to accept such views. The talk I heard yesterday was running in my mind over and over again. I still was not used to the belief in interfaith. I gave a quick glance at the clock and realized that it was time to wake my son up. As I made my way up the staircase, I could hear a faint hissing sound coming from the bedroom.
The mother in me immediately started making wild conclusions as I rushed to the bedroom. There was my three year old son on the bed struggling for breath. I hurriedly scooped him into my arms and got into the car. Upon reaching the hospital, the nurses rushed my son into the ICU.
Worried and anxious, I sat in the waiting room outside the ward. This was his third asthma attack and probably the worst one. As I was fretting, a Malay man in his sixties, dressed in a short sleeved t-shirt and sarong came and stood in front of me. His beard and moustache reminded me of those religious teachers in my primary school. I never felt comfortable near them. I looked up at him half questioningly and half annoyed that he should disturb me at a time like this.
“What is your name, my child?” he asked in a soft and gentle voice.
“Your child? Oh, whatever!” I thought miserably. I reluctantly mumbled my name and turned away. He sat down beside me and looked at me. “What is wrong with your son?”
As briefly as possible, I explained to him about my son’s asthma attack. “Don’t worry,” he said. “He will be fine. A bright child he is. I have children too. They are all over the world. If they knew I was here, they will all come rushing here to see me and I’m afraid the hospital is not big enough to hold all of them,” he said with a chuckle.
The man was not making any sense but I managed to give him a faint smile. “Don’t you want to ask me anything?” he asked when I didn’t say anything.
“What do you work as?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“I own many companies all over the world. And my children are willing to do my work for me voluntarily anywhere and everywhere.”
I tried my best to look impressed at what he had just said. “What does your son like to play with?” he asked me.
For the sake of getting rid of this stranger, I said, “He likes toy cars.”
Within minutes, the old man returned with a white car and a white teddy bear. “Give this car to your son and you keep the teddy bear for yourself. I will be in room 103 if you want to see me.” With that, he went away.
I looked at the toy car and smiled. I looked at the teddy bear and burst out laughing despite the situation I was in. “Funny old man, but he seemed to be so concerned over both of us’” I thought to myself. A few minutes later, the doctor came out of the ward to say that Arun was perfectly alright. I rushed in and fussed over him for a short while.
When Arun saw the toy car and the teddy bear, he asked, “Mummy, is that what the old uncle gave you?”
Quite shocked, I asked him, “How did you know?”
“Because he told he will take care of me and that he had bought me a present.”
Not wanting to discuss this issue any further, I promised my son that we’ll visit the old uncle later that evening. As we stood in front of room 103, I was still pondering about how the old man had communicated with my son. I pushed open the door and saw a nurse cleaning the room. I asked her, “Was an elderly man admitted here before this?”
“No ma’am.”
My son and I exchanged puzzled looks. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to face a kind faced, middle aged woman in a sari. “I think you’re looking for this, dear,” she said as she thrust something into my hand. Before I could say anything, she went around the corner and out of sight.
The picture I was looking at was none other than the divine and caring figure I worshipped so faithfully everyday. There was something written underneath the picture. “I come in different forms. I have many children who love to serve me. –Baba”
Tears rolled down at my cheek as I looked at the toys in my son’s hands and recalled how the old Malay man had talked to me. If only I had paid more attention. It was a miracle. After all this, I was not insane to continue separating people by religion.
We are all children of God. Hence, we are nothing but brothers and sisters to each other. It’s not about calling everybody ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ but it’s about believing in it and practicing it with a whole and sincere heart. We have to develop a habit of visualizing unity in diversity. - Shalini
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