(Mother enters with a tray of ‘Devotion’[1] leaves in her hand, calling out in a playful mood)
Who wants ‘Devotion’?… Who wants ‘Devotion’?… I give it to the one who asks for it. Who wants it?… (Mother distributes it to those who were present. She then asks me in a teasing tone) Do you want it?… You want it? Do you care for all these things? Does it mean anything to you, or are these only words? Look! No effect. It is a block of stone! No reaction at all. What?… Do you want it? Don’t need it? No?
But, Mother, didn’t you feel, didn’t you hear what I want?
Cunning fellow that you are, here. (giving me some leaves) Can’t you speak? What are you made of?
Don’t know, Mother, but it is Your fault.
My fault, but why?
Because You made me like this. You have made me, so, You know.
But I have not forbidden you to ask me for something.
Yes.
When?
You told me: “When one is silent before You, one receives well.”
Ah! Really, you are… (Mother smiles and leaves the room)
[1] ‘Devotion’ — Ocimum Sanctum, Tulsi
