Weaving a life

There was times when he used to have his pastimes with the famous indigenous materials he has woven and typical of the ways he used to design very ardently the beautiful clothes and the sarees.The ways make him embarrassing of the beauty of the ladies in their ethnic attires and he loved to have touched the clothes with passion and love .He weaved the silks for the major part of his life and the Kanchipuram and the Banaras silk sarees came out with ecstatic feel of love .The glory of his art work paved the way for him to weave more and more.

The poor man had his time doing the entire weaving toiling day in and day out with each silk thread intertwining in the weaving machine. Altogether he was tampered to an extent where his hands have worn out and the shabby and the dirty clothes he wore made him ridiculous hardship workman who used to ponder his time working on the glorious design clothes of the trendy women and men. The work came out as an art piece in each of the item he pursued with and then when he got some time he used have some chai in the nearby tea shop of his friend.

Borne with the quality of a layman and the penance and the sufferings he faced in his life time, he lived more like a beggar with no family and backgrounds. The village of Surat had tales of many such workers who had greatly worked their lifetime for these clothes yet hadn’t had much for their life. All the day when he is into the tailoring factory he had chores of many other friends doing the same kind of work as he does .There can many such incidences of pity and the mammoth kind of whining they make at night time can imply the fact that they are under sickness and severe pain .This man had meager income and nothing left for his life , but the tempting and crazy ways to always sit with the weaving machine regularly day in and day out to just get one saree within a year is to be appraised fairly.

The plethora of his pain had to be taken into seriously as the man was having significant amount of what one may term as sickness and the way to the hospital is impossible in that remote area. The pain in him was growing more and the hectic schedule of the man made him a kind of a lunatic and a recklessly foolish man.The blurred vision and hefty spectacles of old fashion he had has to be noted by anyone .The major part of his life had been in pain as the cancer in him is causing bane in his health.

The group of friends he had always treacherously made fun of his stooping hold and drew his caricatures in the slabs and walls of the factory. The political mentality of the some men cannot be adjusted to and the cruel and the animalistic nature of coworkers who basically came from that village is beyond ones thoughts and means .The criminal mind of the people that bored the stupidity of looking at a poor man with dirty and cunning stares, the attitude typically of violence of many can be seen. The vacant looks of no helping characteristics is the main temptation of the society at large .The pantomime stories the friends created ,characterized the ways of the man and came out like a comical master piece.

The accolades and praising he won from his boss were one problem with his friends showing a behavior of bad temper and also the comical, satirical nature they entertained. The ganja and the marijuana in them caused the ways of bad moods and the violent skeptical and criminal functioning of their mind with the testosterone high caused them to plot against this poor man who just wanted to lead a simple life without disturbance to any. The cough always destined to accompany him and wheezing always had the time for his choking pain. The man was given great accomplishment for his hard work and signature he had in designing any attire won many dream projects for the company. The jealousy and deceitful mind of his friends took a satanical shape and the plot was already planned to for his fate.

This weaver bird forgot to weave his nest and had the footpaths or pavements of shops to lie down at the dusk. The beautiful clothes which came out of him always admired the beauty of his heart so cleanly shaping the clothes but the Satan in the friends waiting with spear in their hands to plot against him for once and forever. The days of fashions were waving in Surat with village girls wearing the sarees for their wedding conglomerations. But before the Satan’s came out with the spearhead the man had drunk the poison to kill his dirty ill health. Such is the impact of the cancer he faced with, the lung has been screwed and the health has been deteriorated to a point of unending pain. The blood he vomited everyday had clots of tissues from the esophagus stinking badly.

The cancerous waves are all across the world causing the pain and the illness. The final stages are very pathetic and the chemo doing rupture of the heart and the pockets. The hospital and medical charges cannot be withstood by the common man and the charity also doesn’t pave much for a person like a weaver or farmer. The man has been torn to pieces when he came to know of his illness because his dream always was around the silken clothes he weaved and designed. The nature of the illness was such that there is no turn back to life and only destiny for this man was death.

The weaver weaved the clothes of his life in a bottle of venom .He envied the pride of the boss and his friends with little or no benefit for himself. The unwanted story like folklore will be forgotten in the land of history and in the minds of the people.Yet another Indian weaver is about to lose his life in this untiring land with no botheration to any. The mind was full of spiced up feelings and had the temperament to tune to the will of the life. The point at which there is no return back to life , a point where one has to decide upon the fact that there is not much to go on, that point wherein we have to take that stride, that’s is death and the weaver had no chance to the will of the God.

The clothes- the sarees, shawls and the Kurtis went up to the market of international quality, but will the one who done it so eloquently will be ever comes to the world dais?. This is the common man born for the Indian pride and mentally scrutinized as a mere human. The calculations and the factual image of the man suffering out of cancer is very much into vicinity today and there is no cure for this dangerous haphazard killer of the time. When small pox eradicated many out of vicinity the vaccinations came into picture. There are remedies for the initial time of the disease but for the person who has come long way have no choice left for. The weaver s friends mourned for moaning out their wrecked mind to the pride of their social status. Their mind blowing thoughts were hidden beneath the clown faces and dignity poured out of the valor.

The fabulous party of the friends went well in the church of Basilica and the splendor of the man was mimicked for laughter and fun. The curios which decorated the village textiles in the form of designer clothes had it times costing fairly and at high priced value. Quizzically there are moments in everyone life as to think of how much work we did which never go to the glory of one’s life. One such story is about this elegant textile designer who welcomed the Indian art culture and for which the factories and small scale workshops are build up for in the Indian mud. The Indian weaving are very much into the International market but the weavers are beyond the stage in the darkest areas of the world within the mud houses.

The man had dreams and dreams to fathom upon and to knit the clothes out of his time and dedications. Clearly his mind wanted to be called upon the stages of the world wherein dreamers just propped up from there. The legal and the political environment we are born with don’t have much to offer in this country. When health is the major factor causing the dreams to be stooped down, we have no such time or money to do something to get back to life and dreams.

These things make us conclude that some point in life we also had our life, brain and blood into our work we love and dedicate to but life didn’t have much to offer for us like great men in the history. But today the man looked upon the sky dreaming of the passions, visions and the self-drive he had in himself while crocheting the beautiful scenes of his life. A charity in itself has come along his way far away from a sub urban land in the form of a rich angel. She was there to help the needy to clothe him, feed him and nurture himself and to be with what her kindness has to offer. The kindness of heart still rings its bells from nooks and corners of this world still embarking great God for his glorious highness. I have to speak of the character of some gems here in this world who can give a life through financial help and medical support. It had been a long way for him to come out of the venomous illness but still he has some time left for dreams and visions to clearly clothe the designer artifacts by his work.

Marvelous deeds must be praised and raised upon but kindness is a virtue held by angels and cupids from heaven and borne in this world with what they can offer to us. Mentioning about the multitude in which creatures are born, some with more pleasures and well beings than others, yet the greatness of hearts and values should be called upon, and that is the reason we say that God still exists in this world in the form of human, this is just a citing of one human helped by another to remove the obstacles he faced and to move on together in this road of faith.