A tiny public water tap by the side of a lane in the neighbourhood I pass by regularly in the morning while I set out on my long walk. The tap sprouts from a concrete support with a surface of less than one square foot. Why do I go into such details for a nondescript public facility? I would not have thought of it as a special landmark either. A tiny marble plaque -- one square foot in size-- sits on the concrete pillar, like a throne on a lofty pedestal. That is what I consider worthy to write about.
On the piece of the marble sits the Royalty-- the name of the dignitary who dedicated this facility to the subjects of our Democratic Republic is inscribed on-- rather unkindly (for the great personality) in BLACK . The plaque is a symptom. It represents a frail attempt for immortality; it even betrays some arrogance; it reveals sycophancy; it reveals our disregard for taxpayers' money. At many places I see huge empty space at the mouth of long bridges on Rivers showing that the great marble pieces have been stolen and the mighty benefactors who made the bridges possible, shown the door; and forgotten.
I used to be curious to look for such a plaque in the temple campus to find the name of the persons who built or inaugurated the grand Kalinga Temples. I do not find them.
We build not to feed our ego; we do it from a sense of duty and through our deeds we surrender ourselves to a greater cause. Why should we inscribe our name on it and defile its sanctity by our ego? How right the epitaph in John Keats is which says "Here lies One whose Name was writ in Water". Our real role is to live meaningfully and then get into the world of the unknown.
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2nd August, 2013
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