• Sushma Sindhu

A cup of soul

To a vendor who prided himself on selling the most requisite things to the tourists, there visited a wise man. Unlike any other wise men, he didn’t seem to have invested much time in grooming himself. Under his shabby clothing disguised the wisdom of the universe which knew not to please others by mere look and glamour. This wise man waited till the vendor got rid of customers and shifted his short attention span onto him.


Then, extending a cup to the vendor taken out of his tattered garment wise man spoke with a deep voice that sounded very contradictory to his appearance, “Can I please have a cup of soul?”


Appearing startled, the vendor retorted, “We don’t actually sell...” he cut off in the middle and suddenly bursted, “ Hey wait! Are you crazy or what? What are you asking for?”


The wise man replied smilingly, “My dear, I am asking exactly for what you are selling here. I heard that long time ago you started this business and thus began selling your soul little by little. Soul that yearned to master the art you loved, soul that yearned to connect beyond material acquisition. I realized that you completely gave up on all your dreams and aspirations thinking they are not of any value. I am here requesting you to give me a wee bit of your soul in that cup if at all I can get it!”


The vendor seemed like he was just struck by a thunder bolt and in shock he blabbered, “what are you? Why are you here for? I… See I am just fine with the way I am. alright..."

He answered a stranger when it was not at all necessary to come up with one. Why he has to explain a passerby what his life’s purpose was about, after all ! But strangely, when someone exactly points out things we had hidden from ourselves from quite sometime, we all tend to respond, mostly unconsciously. So was he! He continued to heed and respond with his defenses down.


The wise man quipped, “ You and I both knew it well that I am nobody. I am not your polar star or your destiny in disguise showing you where you are destined to go. And I am not the one to preach you to follow your heart, which itself is in dire confusion. All I know, vendor is the person All I know, vendor is that the man who no more rejoices dreams, who is no more connected inwardly, who doesn’t appreciate the moment, whose eyes wander often in uncertainty, insecurity, is not living at all. I wish I could see more soulful bodies walking on this paradise earth. So I am here.”


With this, the vendor, whose defenses had already departed him for the first time to let his inner self out, collapsed completely. Like a child he sobbed and spoke with broken sentences, “Oh stranger! Why is it that always truth hurts so much?”


With elegance in his voice, the wise man uttered, “It is not the truth that hurts my dear human. It is the revelation of the lies under whose façade we live all through hurts the most!”

With this, the wise man understood it is time to leave. He knew that realization is the job of silence. Words can only confuse more! He walked down the street and disappeared at the bend in the road.


The vendor after much weeping, venting out the deep seated insecurities, finally arrived at the new awakening. He sighed and spoke with the language audible to the universe, “Oh! I want to live… A cup of soul. here goes my man... Not to sell but to savour!”


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