This is an article of mine that was published in the Nagpur Times more than 25 years ago. It bears relevance to how we look at things when they don't happen according to our wishes. I thought it would give us a new perspective of looking at our problems.

Joy of Living

It had been a long and a particularly tiring day, and as I trudged home from office, I could feel a mounting sense of irritation ready to blossom into anger at the least bit of provocation.
I stood on the doorstep, ready to fly at whoever was taking such a long time to open the door. I stopped short though, at the sight of my unsuspecting niece, all thoughts of anger melting away as I took in her sparkling eyes and her impish face. She reminded me vividly of Nargis, a little girl I had met a few years ago when I had gone to Kashmir on holiday.
It was a cool summer evening in Srinagar, the mountain breeze heightening the nip in the air. The twilight had tinged the distant hills in delicate purple and the call of the muezzin floating in from the nearby mosques was beautiful in its rising crescendo. As I stood beside the lake, I sensed someone's steady gaze upon me. On turning, I saw a girl of about twelve, with shy brown eyes, rosy cheeks and a mop of curly hair framing her round face.
"Would you like to buy some flowers, Didi?"
Her childish voice wouldn't let me refuse, so I bought a posy of wild roses and daisies and asked her name.
"Nargis," she smiled.
Instinctively, I glanced down at her wicker basket, noting the cluster of  yellow blooms that boasted of being known by the name of the girl who carried them. She gave me a knowing grin, obviously used to getting a similar reaction from others before me.
We were pals from then on, and every evening I found Nargis waiting by the tall poplars for me to come by. She sold flowers to add to the meager income of her father, the whole day being spent in plucking the "Haand", a kind of plant used as a vegetable in Kashmir.
I envisaged her tiny frame sitting on her haunches for hours on end, braving the icy winds, and asked her if she did not long for a more comfortable lifestyle. I was totally unprepared for that now-familiar grin when she laughingly told me that it did not matter as she had got used to it. I gaped at the little philosopher, amazed at the incredible maturity that belied her tender years. Her sunny nature had no place for bitterness and complaint. But in no way did it lessen her innocence or her faith in fairies, so typical of the child that she was. I thought of our own petty disagreements so often blown out of proportion, detracting from the sheer joy of living.
What else could I do but pray that she would continue to breeze through life, swaying gently along the winds of change, spreading her unique fragrance around her.

---Medhavini Pant

This is the poem I wrote for my kindergarten students to show them the importance of routine in their young lives, and how the sun guides a child gently through his day.

My friend - The Sun

All day long
You shine in the sky
Lighting up the world
From your kingdom so high

Every single morning
When the clock strikes seven
You are at my window
Like a messenger form Heaven

Get up I must
From my warm little bed
To greet a new day
With a smile, so you said

Few hours of work
And after some play
It's time for a meal
As now it's mid day

Noon is the time
When you blaze in the sky
Mother makes me rest
And sleep by and by

Twilight falls softly
At the end of day
Bringing sounds of laughter
Of children at play

Soon it will be night
And you will be gone
To faraway lands
To bring in the morn

But come back you will
From the Heaven again
To wake me tomorrow
Outside my window pane


---Medhavini Pant