When the world doesn't seem to understand

Jerry’s mother resented her daughter’s loneliness. Jerry was a quiet and shy child always wanting to make friends but, never knowing how. When the all the other girls were busy playing, chatting and gossiping, she watched butterflies and fed school pool ducks. At times, she tried to join them but somehow neither they nor she understood one another and ,the talks more or less ended up at confused ends: more compassionate ones understood and smiled and, the wicked ones ridiculed. And, Jerry knew she didn’t matter even slightest to them. Her mother seemed to be the only one who she can count on.


One day her mother gave Jerry a bright yellow stone and asked her to present it to the grocer nearby. She walked across the street and forwarded the stone to the Grocer. Without much notice grocer took it from her and, pushed it aside. Following evening Jerry’s mother asked again to go back to the grocer and check if he wanted to keep that stone.

“I could keep it Jerry, but it is not of much use and it is occupying space. You know I am always short of space” said the grocer.

So Jerry brought it back

After a few days her mother asked Jerry to try and sell the stone to the local bead artisan for 10$.

“It looks nice and shiny but, I cannot pay more than 1$ for this” said the artisan.

she bought the stone back with her.

Weeks passed.

One evening on their way back to the market her mother and Jerry stopped by a local Jeweller. Her mother took out the stone from purse and passed it to the Jeweler.

“May I know its price?” She said.

The Jeweler looked through his magnifiers, rotating the gem slowly to the side.

After few minutes of careful study the Jeweller said“It is a fine gem. I have never seen one recently.”
“Well, how much can you pay me for this?” Jerry’s mother asked again.

“Can you sell it for 10,000$?” said the Jeweller looking in Jerry’s mother’s eyes through his lowered glasses.

She kept quiet

“Ok. What about 12,000$?” He said again

Jerry’s mother smiled.”That’s ok. I just needed to know its price."

And, they walked back home.

Her mother held Jerry’s hand gently and said” sometimes the world doesn’t treasure you, because it fails to judge your worth. It can throw a gem considering it a stone. But, that doesn’t make the gem become a stone”

So when the world doesn’t seem to know you, know it lacks the understanding of who you are. Each person is a fine Gem crafted by the greatest artist and only He knows every person’s worth.

ps:Inspired by Osho's parable

Utopia forever

On a warm, bright winter morning Ms. Butterfly decided to stroll around and relive the day. The world was beautiful with angels around. She took her way to the neighborhood market, stopping at a grocery store.


“Goodmorning Mr. Snake. “ Ms. Butterfly said to the grocer.

She eyed around and found the right corner of juices and picked luscious pink pack.

“How much is the juice worth?” The rose juice wetted her mouth.

“Its 100 Rs" said the grocer.

“But the retail price is 60 Rs?”Ms. Butterfly drew her thoughts back to grocer looking at the pack.

Mr. snake hissed his forked tongue. "Its 100 for living and 60 for the dead. “

“Now do you want it for 60? “Ms Butterfly quickly picked out a hundred rupee note and rushed out of the shop.

She saw the theatre with a blockbuster “pa”. The waiting line was long but somehow she managed until her turn. Ms Cat who was 5th in the adjacent lane pushed ms butterfly and stood ahead. Losing her charm to watch the movie, Ms Butterfly walked back home.

She took the lonelier ring road to match her thoughts. Fresh winter morning breeze soothed her with lily scent of the farm. She took a halt and basked on the lily bed with winter dew.

“Off you go” said Mr. Grasshopper kicking Ms Butterfly from the top.

” This is my place. Who the one you to collect?”

Ms. Butterly passed through ranches, meadows and willows. There was heaven around with perfumes lilies and drifting daisies. But not for her.

Little boy house sparrow chased her even in the woods. Ms. Butterfly could we ride back home. I lost my way following you.

“Leave me alone. I am not going back to Greenville ever again” Irked Ms butterfly

So they crossed rivers, lakes, gardens and alleys, searching for a place that was meant for them.

“Where to? Ask the stranger Mr. Rabbit.

“We are going to utopia.” Replied Ms Butterfly

“Wait. I will join. This forest is not for me.”Mr. Rabbit followed

“ Is there a utopia? Oh… We have had been dreaming of it forever. We are coming with you.” The duck neighborhood was moved.

Deer, pigeons, frogs and bugs all followed the historical inquest of utopia forever. They crossed the Himalayas, Indian Ocean, rain forests and the North Pole.

Sun shone, rain wetted and snow chilled but, they were determined.
“Where to now?” asked Mr. Rabbit looking at the moon from the end of North pole.

Grand old Mr. Gear Bear howled and whooped on their story and pointed out to hiding Mr. snake, Ms cat and Mr grasshopper who had been following them on the great story.

“Those were the days when God lived with me. God frazzled through the days and the nights and kept me awake with him. You know creating a world is not an easy task. Now I am old and worn out but there was a time I carried it on my shoulders.”

He sighed

“For a brief it was all happy but, slowly people came fighting on the ownership of the world. They claimed that because they lived here, the world belonged to them and not to others. They also said that their share was inadequate.”

“God was out of answer and so he abandoned this place giving it all to them. Even now people come seeking their claim.”

I tell them that this world is not to own but, to be. It is a utopia if it is for all and a hell if for one. Ownership distorts vision turning beauty into ugliness.

Was Jesus- a God?

“May those who have Eyes, See; and those who have Ears, Hear” Jesus Forgot to include “may those who can reason, have the courage to accept their wrongs”. Being seen and heard became the foundation of Jesus of Nazerath’s execution. It is calamitous that malign criminals stroll free or at the most spend their life locked in the jail rooms but, compassionate authentic wise men are almost always killed brutally. From Jesus to Buddha to Mahatma Gandhi almost all good harmless influential people were executed.

Man is born with an inherent capability to distinguish between good and bad. No law can match the reasoning of an evolved being. Each of us has a clear understanding of where we stand, what we do and what should be done. But we all differ in our capacity to accept it, so we keep ignoring it to much or less extent. These few great men were the ones who had the total capacity and courage to accept and change themselves for the better.

Jesus , Buddha , Mahavir were authentic men, real men: as man should be. They were a yardstick for human existence; a challenge to mankind; an Everest to cliffs. But, they reminded fellow men of their pettiness. There is a very ancient saying that if you want to make one stick look small erect a bigger stick adjacent to it. So they stood like a pole to the moon.

Executing them was an effort to reestablish lost superiority in some way. But when one brutally murders someone utterly innocent, guilt remains. Calling Jesus, Buddha and Mahavir God is a subtle way to hide guilt: the guilt of all wrongs we did to them: Of killing absolutely sane people for insane reasons.

And naming them God is also a way to guard our betterment. It is an excuse for us in being as we are. We want to remain at the lowest because lowest needs no effort: It is an easy path. All good men turn to Gods and Mahatma’s and all bad remain to be human. Adolf Hitler was a human, so was Joseph Stalin and Mao-Tse Tung and so on.