Wait for it.

After Holi, the cold would subside rapidly and the blossoms on the mangoes would be just a glow. Facing the exam would have come We used to sleep in the open courtyard when it rained but in March-April we were allowed to sleep in the gallery. The soft hands of the night began to move over the body, and the dark atmosphere of sleep was felt. One message in mind while closing eyes
Wake up, will you hear the cuckoo's 'coo' tomorrow? Let's see!' Early in the morning when he was fast asleep The sound would reach the ears and the waiting for that sound would be worth it.The wait for Mutti must have started from then. There was no laziness in studying. Loved recitation, prescribed books were as fondly read over and over as books of matter; But the study notebook was a bit sidelined, and the memory of the holiday came back. It is the Hazari Mograya tree in the yard, the bakuli flowers picked in the morning atShaniwarwada, the water from the Matha, the rush of mother's kurdaya papdas, the dried leaves falling all over the yard, curry dal and panha, sometimes ice balls that can be sucked when the house allows, fresh sugarcane juice and most importantly Lots of stories and new books of poetry.
Although there are many Binhads in our big palace, one fourth of the entire palace was only Mala. While waiting for the holiday, the wonderful idea of ​​going to the garden and sitting among the books filled my heart. Waiting for the books was fun. A different world was meeting there. Unseen countries, unseen people, unexperienced events, unfamiliar yet still feeling like our own. How amazing the threads of identity that match and the things that don't match, if the world was like that... I was experiencing something new and the magic of words. The things I was reading, that history, those songs were composed by someone. was written How are these people able to write what they wanted to write! I understood the power of language. The strength of the writer's talent
I understood, so the time before summer was so crazy waiting to read the books.I understood, so the time before summer was so crazy waiting to read the books, that's it! Another wait is due to parrots. There was a big umbar tree behind our house, there were days when they were hot, and swarms of them would come down from the umbar. Somehow, that tree would become so beautiful with green leaves and green leaves! I used to wait for those blessed ones. Of those red sweetened umbars. Many poems that come to my mind...
Next, I will hold the finger of poetry well. She became my friend. Sometimes, we call our friend, run to her, forget our thoughts and talk to her. There was only one difference. She would come to me whenever she wanted. Any time of the night even midnight; But sometimes I was made to wait too long.
Poetry was not guaranteed to come when I called. Then I don't want to wait for her - I don't want to be uncomfortable, mother, even if I remember that conversation today, I am still crying. It seems that the green wings should come down again on the ripe fruits of Umbra.When our mother used to work in the Marathi school of Alikanchan, there was no easy transport of vehicles like today. Now she used to leave home at eight o'clock in the morning. He used to catch a bus and go to the railway station. While returning to Gaji as well, the train often left late. Sometimes she used to be nine-thirty to return home by bus from Pune station. We siblings used to stand at the gate of the castle waiting for her.As soon as the postman arrives, she gets it right. She goes happily. Taking the letter in her hand, she enjoys it by touch, asks the postman to read it, it is the letter sent to her by the old woman's son. He asked his mother very lovingly. As soon as he would come to take her away, Mahatari's face was full of satisfaction as she listened to everything he wrote.When the son comes forward, he sees that the father has a completely blank paper in his hand. Nothing is written on it. But the old woman thanks her father again and again. gives blessings. After coming far from there, the father tells the child that the old woman is waiting for her son who has gone away. Waiting for his letter, his arrival, her son never writes to her. Not interrogating her; But the postman can't bear to wait for her. To make the old lady happy, every time the postman has been reading the core letter by heart and the last days of the old lady are passed with contentment. Now his young son has to continue the same drama as he takes his place.When the son comes forward, he sees that the father has a completely blank paper in his hand. Nothing is written on it. But the old woman thanks her father again and again. gives blessings. After coming far from there, the father tells the child that the old woman is waiting for her son who has gone away. Waiting for his letter, his arrival, her son never writes to her. Not interrogating her; But the postman can't bear to wait for her. To make the old lady happy, every time the postman has been reading the core letter by heart and the last days of the old lady are passed with contentment. Now his young son has to continue the same drama as he takes his place.The mature, sensible postman realizes that the letter hand of the urban children is the only means of survival for the old man, he is not just a government servant who delivers letters. He is a man, a good man, he shows his young son not only the mountain paths and the villages. He shows him the man. The old man shows the bridge to reach the people and explains to the child how to make waiting happy. 'Waiting' is a little bit of happiness, sadness, worry, fear, restlessness, anxiety, there are many things in it. Just remember the eyes of a farmer waiting for the full rain or the eyes of a saint waiting for the darshan of the Lord. It is realized when it is touched, the value of something is realized only when one has to wait for it. If we get many valuable things easily, we don't realize their value. While waiting we learn patience, to be patient
learns Learn to believe in something. Faith becomes more and more evident. The obsession grows. All this is easily coming to mind while waiting and thinking that what one wants should not come easily. If you have to wait a little, you have to suffer a little, only then will the taste of the mouth increase. The taste of success will increase.