look news india
There was a time when humans had a strong desire to know about each other. Complete information about the prominent persons of the area, their family members, family background, mutual interactions was at stake throughout the work. Every person, especially the head of the family, considered it his ultimate duty and religion to participate in each other's sorrows and joys.
The daughter-in-law and son-in-law of the village were given full respect. Earlier, relatives used to get angry if a letter laced with turmeric did not arrive along with the wedding card. Many times the program to attend the wedding had to be cancelled. If things had gone wrong before the wedding, they would have had to realize their mistake and beg to attend the wedding. As time passed, all this gradually started disappearing.
Nowadays people send wedding cards on WhatsApp and charge money. They don't have time for social interactions. People started migrating from villages to cities, towns to cities and capitals in search of livelihood. Migrant life gradually limited man's scope. In this materialistic era, if you say something, people will talk very politely and decently. As soon as their meaning is complete, they become completely unknown.
Then the lines from an old song come to mind: 'Matlab Nikal Gaya To Pehchanate Nahi'. Well, this phenomenon is spreading rapidly not only in India or Punjab but globally. People are fulfilling their duty by sharing happiness and sorrow on social media.
Sometimes such posts are also seen which have a sudden positive impact. In today's social media era, I saw a post on Facebook some time ago that had a deep impact on me. The post was that a retired doctor of Pakistani origin who had been living in the US for a long time was invited to deliver a guest lecture to the students of a medical college in Karachi. Yearning to meet his childhood Langotiya friends, he reached Karachi two days ago, where somehow he contacted a friend who studied with him in primary school and invited him to his five-star hotel, where he stayed Similarly, he also found Jundali's third classmate. All three of them did not realize how four-five hours passed amidst laughter and joking.
He was talking about beating of Maulvis and Masters, being dragged behind lorries, insulting elders, but the conversation was not ending. Intending to surprise their fourth friend, the three of them walked across the street from the hotel to his Abbe Wali tailor shop. He saw that the shop where his father used to stitch clothes by placing a sewing machine on a wooden platform, now had a nice counter and a clothes stand was also decorated on one side.
When he called, O Mian, where are you, look who has come? A 30-35 year old young man from the front said, who are you uncle? The answer was, “We are your father's loincloth friends.” With tears in his eyes he said that it has been more than thirty years since Uncle Abba passed away. The three friends were stunned to hear this. The doctor gathered some courage and said with a full heart, Come on, I have come here after many decades. These two who live here with me also do not know about his death. On the day of the lecture, the tired doctor advised the medical students to share their feelings with their friends on holidays or Sundays. If possible, participate in their happiness and sorrow. Always be a partner in their every small and big happiness.
Yes, keep one thing in mind that in this conversation there should not be anything related to profession, business or your position and property. Just do the same things we used to do in childhood. Ambien grazed from the gardens, received beatings from the owners. Be sure to express your heartache by sharing other incidents and anecdotes. The comfort you will get from these small things will be different. Truth be told, I used to talk to many of my friends in my village but after reading this post, every week I keep asking my friends on my pocket phone about the village, their family, political activities and their grandchildren.
The benefit of this was that when one of my childhood friends had a grandson, he came with a box of laddus to sweeten my mouth, traveling a distance of 150 kilometers and crossing three toll plazas on the way. I repeatedly said that when I come to the village, they will share happiness.
Despite convincing, he drove his Maruti from Amargarh to Jalandhar. Now it has become such a trend to inquire about the well-being of friends that if I am unable to call for some reason, then in the next few days they will call me and ask whether everything is alright or not. There is peace in the house. There is no doubt that doing so puts my mind at ease and I am grateful for the suggestion of a doctor from Pakistan whose suggestion has made a serious effort to connect me with the Langotiya people of his village.
