Chapter 23அதிகாரம் 23 முயற்சி Effort

On the shoulder that has taken it up, no burden; on the shoulder that has not, even a feather weighs.

Small step, small step in the dust, and the dust becomes a path, becomes a street, becomes a city.

When the drumming is done, the drum’s sound fades; the mark on the hand that beat it does not.

They called it the unmoving tree. After it was severed, they saw its roots, which had been moving without a sound.

The stone that has ground flour a hundred times: its smoothness is a voice that speaks without speaking.

The town knows what was made with melting flesh; who knows that the maker himself was melting?

In Tamil, ‘melting the flesh’ means toil that wastes the body; the same words can also mean rendering meat to cook a dish.

The ground knows the wear where she stood; after she has gone, the trace does not tell.

A mark remains without giving any account of the one who left it.

Those under the roof praise the rain; the man who built the roof got soaked.

Though he filled the lamp to the brim with ghee, it had no wick; he held it in his hand, and held darkness.

People cannot tell how far a worn stone has worn away; only the worn hand of the man who wore it tells what was spent.