Horns blared at him continuously; a loud noise of people around him brought him back to the moment, “If you want to die, go somewhere else!” A policeman was shouting at him while helping him to get up by pulling his hand.

 At the age of 47, Harish was as energetic as ever. He had decided to become a sketcher early in his life. The various shades of pencil always lured him more than a palate full of colours. He never ceased to be amazed by how his pencil created an entirely new world on a piece of paper.

 Today, his chaotic mind clamored more than any horn; therefore, he didn’t mind the racket around. A shrunken personality often allows unwanted fear to enter and permeate within. Being unable to draw for the upcoming project made him realize his biggest fear - losing his talent. This morning, he had left his office after four sleepless nights at his desk and a waste bucket full of crumpled papers to find a new perspective.

 His wandering mind led him to the railway station; he boarded the first train he saw. The general compartment was full of people with all sorts of eyes- curious, dull, cheerful, and fearful, resembling his own. One particular group in traditional Marathi attire, which continuously chanted “Vithal Vithal…” captivated him.

 Following the group, he descended on Dehu station to merge with a large procession known as Wari. Wari moved like a river; women balanced Tulsi plants and water pots on their heads, saffron-coloured flags dancing in the air tall and proud, matching the emotions with their carriers.

On the notes of Mridanga and lezim, devotees were dancing around the Palakhi, which carried the silver padukas of Sant Tukaram. The melodious chanting of Varkaris was reaching the sky, which in response roared and started pouring down.  But nothing had the power to reduce the enthusiasm of the Varkaris, who were on their way to Pandharpur to their lord Vithal and Rukmini.

 Devotion had never been part of Harish’s characteristics. He was a man of logic and solid reasoning. And today, when his heart rebelled against his brain, he tried to find justification for it. Why was he ready to be like water, surrendering to adapt to any colour and shape given to him?

 “I will take care of your need, not of your greed.” He recalled the words he heard somewhere as he sat down on the floor to eat the food served to him.

 Greed has engulfed his art; the fear was lurking within him. And worst, he was in denial of its existence. The last few days brought the fear face to face with him and surrendering gave him the courage to accept its presence.

 The procession chanted even louder as it approached Padharpur. Despite all the noise outside, Harish experienced a new level of freedom, freedom of acceptance that gave him tremendous peace within, and inner euphony that paved the way to his creativity!