LET THE CHILDREN COME TO ME
Pic.: Azriel D'Souza M y friend, Mukesh, who resides in the same building where I work from, had come to invite me to his house, yesterday. “Gerry sir, there is a puja at my place today morning,” he said, “please come for a while, any time at your convenience, between 2 and 6 to accept Prasad. ” I went around 3.45 to Mukesh’s place. House was packed with visitors. Mukesh’ family offered me a plate of delicious Prasad. In the hall-room, they had placed a framed photo of Mukesh’s deceased parents. People stood before the photo to pay a silent homage and after that dropped a tern or twenty rupee note in the plate in front of the photo. It was a refreshing picture of Mukesh’s parents who looked young and happy in that picture. Mukesh’s dad died before and soon, his mother did. Both, particularly Mukesh’s mother, were very ill when they had passed away. When I stood before the picture, I felt very happy to see Mukesh’s parents with s...