Traversing through the different chores of the day many times we wonder: "It would be great if I had another pair of hands." Well, the one pair that I have doesn't receive its due and here I am signing an ode in prose to the hands. Last week as I was roughly scanning a weekly magazine, my eyes fell on a group of athletes who were celebrating their victory. They wore jubilant smiles and stood tall with their laurels. Everything was fine except for their hands: They did not have hands. I was amazed at the tenacity of those young athletes but also wondered about how we take certain things for granted. As a reflex action, I held my hands in front of my eyes. I saw them line by line, finger by finger as if I was a Quality-control Inspector.
I spoke to my hands and rendered a silent gratitude to them. When something is very close to us and made use of almost every second, we seldom realise its importance and worth. I mentally tried making a list of the things that I do with my hand. Ah, I don't think I should list the actions here. Let me give some time to you for making your own list. The list that I had mentally made was mind-boggling. I use my hands for everything.
I wondered about the possibility of showing love without hands. I had to discover new ways to touch. I cannot imagine touching without hands. However good I am with my words, sight or any other expression, I cannot touch someone physically without my hands.
When one loses a part of the body, nature always enables to substitute that particular organ with an intensified another organ. But that is a bit too complex for me to think. I cannot do that. Even for typing this post, I have to use my hands.
And anyone can identify people with their hands: Mothers by their coarse yet loving hands; fathers with their rough and callous hands; friends with their tender and caring hands. One just knows. Sometimes when I am sleeping and someone touches my cheeks, I can (in my sleepy state) recognise the hand by the touch. Marvellous, isn't it?
Why don't we stop to reflect on something that is US invariably? I refrain from saying 'part of me' because I see every part as wholesome which makes me. So every organ is at once a separate as well as a complete being in itself.
Speaking of hands, who can forget the lovely painting "Praying Hands" by Albrecht Durer.
Hands!!! What do you think is the best use of your hands?
Do you actually give them the worth they deserve? Show them some love as you charge through the day.