I sat down on a bench and listened to the hymns and songs of the celebrants. I felt the presence of someone sitting on the same bench strangely clothed and dignified looking. I greeted him and he replied "Good evening my son." "Are you a stranger in this city?" I asked "Yes I am." Consoling him I said "A stranger should not feel such, for there is kindness and generosity in people." He said in a sad voice, "I am more a stranger in these days in any city."

"This is the time the rich remember the poor and strong have compassion for weak." I said. He returned "Yes, these momentary mercies are a reminder of superiority." I affirmed, "Your words have merit, but the poor do not care what transpires in the heart of the rich, and the hungry do not care how bread is prepared." And he responded, "The one who receives is not mindful, it is the giver who has to be mindful of the intent of giving, that it is love and compassion given and not to build self-esteem."

I was amazed by the wisdom and said, "It appears you are in need of help, will you accept some money from me?" And with a sad smile he replied, "Yes I am in desperate need, but not of money, or gold." Puzzled, I asked, "What is it that you require?" "I am in need of shelter to rest my head and thoughts". "Please accept this money and go to a lodge for rest."

Sorrowfully he answered, "I have tried every lodge and knocked at every door, but in vain.I am hurt, I seek not a roof, but human shelter." "What a strange person he is! Once he talks like a great philosopher and then like a madman!" With a sad voice he said to me, "Yes I am a madman, but denied of food and shelter, because the heart of man is empty." I apologised to him saying, "Please forgive me, & accept my hospitality and take shelter in my home?"

I knocked on your door too and all the doors, more than a thousand times, and received no answer," he answered severely. Then he added "You would not invite me to your home once you become aware of my identity." "Who are you?" I asked fearfully.

With a thunderous voice like the roar of the ocean, "I am the revolution who builds what man destroys, I am the tempest that  uproots the weeds so life may grow. I am the one who came to earth to banish war and spread peace on earth. Alas I am disappointed because man is content only in misery." Then with hands outstretched and tears running down he stood up facing me. I saw the scars on his arms and the marks of nails in the palms of his hands: I prostrated before him and cried out, "Oh Jesus, the Nazarene!"

And He continued, in anguish, "People are celebrating my coming and in My honour  they pursue ages old tradition around My name. Yet I remain a stranger wandering from East to West upon this earth and no one really knows of Me." At that moment I lifted my head, and looked around and found only a column of smoke before me.

God's messengers have come and gone, yet deep within we remain unchanged. Following the caravan of 'believers' and indulging in rituals we seek peace and happiness through Him. Maybe we are looking in the wrong places.  Rumi the Sufi poet said "When I am gone, look not for my tomb but search for me in the hearts of people"