Awash in austerity

My father was poor but contented. The two hands were his tools for work. The two legs were his means of transport. He wanted very little for...

My father was poor but contented. The two hands were his tools for work. The two legs were his means of transport. He wanted very little for himself. But he wanted to provide everything to his children. Thus, he sweated and served his family. He was confident. Always sure of himself. He had no anxiety. No fear. No stress. No tension.

My mother was a picture of care and compassion. She looked after the family. Under her protective umbrella, everyone felt secure and comfortable. She cleaned the house. Cooked the food. Mended, stitched and washed the clothes. She was always working. In the morning when we got up. Also at night when we went to sleep. She paid attention to every detail. The utensils were always clean. The food was well cooked. Though simple, it was delicious.

Hard work produced good habits. Our needs were limited. There was no want. Thus, no worry. The expense was less than the income. There was harmony at home. Absolute integrity gave total confidence. We were free from fear. There was love. Peace. Respect. A sense of pride. We were happy and healthy.

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No one in my class ever asked me as to why I walked to my school or college. No one was inquisitive about the pocket money that anyone got. The person and not the purse mattered. I never felt that the poverty was a curse. It had its own pleasures. All innocent and not insignificant.

Gradually, I grew up. From a child to a man. From a student to a professional. Started working. Today, by God’s grace, I have more than I need. Good house. Comfortable living conditions. Good help at home. An excellent companion. Beautiful children. A happy family. All these are God’s reward for some good deed.

Yet I miss the small pleasures of the days gone by. I miss the handwashed shirt. Though cheap, it used to be spotlessly clean. There was never a stain. It was perfectly ironed. Then the food. Today, the dishes are many. But these do not taste the same. The heavy copper plate has made way for good bone china crockery. But one can feel the ‘Vim’ on the plate. I miss the cleanliness. Also the flavour in the food.

More than all this, I miss the sincere friendship. In my younger days, I had never experienced any jealousy. Today, even friends act petty. They can endure my difficulties. But the success is hard to bear. They scan everything under a microscope. They find no fault in themselves. See no merit in others. Magnify trifles. Stifle the truth and spread falsehood. They start whisper campaigns. Spread canards. For petty personal gains. They prey on my peace.

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Are the small pleasures of austerity not better than the terrible tortures of prosperity?

SC on Waqf Act: Stay on clause that creator has to be practising Islam for 5 yrs

India3 min ago

The Supreme Court on Monday refused to stay the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, provision requiring registration of Waqf by user, but paused the clause that states a person must be a practitioner of Islam for five years to create a Waqf until state governments frame relevant rules.

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