A quiet saint

These hills around are not devious. They neither hide. Its simplicity is as well not that easy to understand, is it? The temple is an open rock structure. It is perspired by sun glares, morning & regular afternoon. At night, dark befalls the sorrounding. Throughout the long day, sparse traffic to-and-fro keep hitting the road. Inside the periphery, there are trees of variety. Donning a white dhoti and a loose upperwear shawl, a quiet thin-looking gentleman could not be seen more calm. Time stands before him, in unrolled butterfly. He does not count his age. No belongings, but all that exists in thoughts and good faith, many wonder.

As desireless he can be, he is not a keeper. A devotee, but of what god? Shree Hanuman sparks inside an open garbhagriha, holding a huge mountain in his hand. Some people call the person as baba, some just call him sadhuji. Few roadbikes stopped days ago and took several images of him. They had politely asked for permission. It's not a nuisance. It's a way to secretly remain connected with the multitude. The city of a million crowd, equipped with the latest technology grab is not too far. Infact, the city is already expanding enough and may one day touch the premises of the temple he resides. But that day is still too far.

Baba recites no secret mantras. His devotion exudes in simplicity. Like breath, like regularity, like seasons, like the fall of day-night, like the blooming of flowers, like the cause of change, baba continues in serene emotion, in constant. Random sparring donations helps him keep a surviving diet. Guess, hunger could not be deceited! His cycle also comprise a 9'O clock moving to sleep and waking up at midnight to start his day.

What is detachment? The absence of any quench, the presence of no desire? Baba is away from family, he has no friends, he makes no travel plans and no financial savings.. What world is his? Strangest probably, or just outworldly. A modern man is an anxious soul. The baba knows no anxiety.