She had such a bond,
A presence she felt
Yet could not see,
Somethings are better felt,
She closed her eyes;
That saline tang pervaded her nose,
Entwined she felt with that vast blue.
In trance she let herself be claimed.
She sat now on the sandy shores,
Gazing where the cloud kissed
The ocean and zenith blushed pinkish gold.
She could hear the rhythm of the sea,
Her heart beats alike the roar of that azure beauty.
She needs no shells to recollect her encounters!
Seagulls beat a quick retreat,
Leaving her to converse with her soul.
The breeze danced without a sound,
Blowing off the frets
That lined her face.
Lightly tugging at her hair
Until it broke free,
Medusa-like spread from all sides.
Her eyes seemed to gain that glaze
Far away in her room
She sensed serenity serenading,
Life rushed back,
Awoke once again
To untangle the tangles that ensnared.
Lying down on the mattress on top of the terrace, I stared at the inky blue sky as midnight arrived in her chariot. The Moon was nowhere to be seen, sulking somewhere angry perhaps at the absence of clouds, her handmaidens. The zenith, therefore, was muted, specked with stars far away that gazed at me and my girls as we lay there in awe with the universe as if we saw the sky for the first time. After umpteen failed attempts to capture the view with our phone camera, we resorted to capturing it in our mind’s eye.
The stars sensing my attention started moving here and there boosted by their pride. I felt the sky was shifting, circling our earth in slow motion. A fiery speck passed the countenance of the sky. Vainly I wished for it to be a shooting star, a wish granter at the end of this tumultuous year. My mind reasoned that it was not a shooting star but just my imagination running wild. Pacifying my unhappy self I resumed my night watch when to my amazement again I saw that shooting star, and I knew I was right.
The universe gave me chance to assess my priorities and I was at a loss as I did not know what to wish for! The silence except for the wind on the branches of coconut tree broken by a mild shriek from my friend who thought it was a ghost was exhilarating. Sleep never came to me, mosquitoes buzzed competing for attention and I swatted them away. I understood what it felt to be alive, to breathe, feeling everything that is happening around and also to feel so in tune with nature that to part from it would be to stick out like a sore thumb. The air was cold, refreshing to the sun-scorched skin.
At 4 have we reluctantly dragged ourselves inside disturbed from our peace by the approaching dawn. The door clicked shut us away from paradise. The scenes still played behind my eyelids as I closed them before I slipped into an uneventful sleep.
This experience was surely etched in our minds forever. As we approached the end of another year, we felt sure that our friendship will be strong despite the passage of time. This night will continue to impress, to receive the pallor of sadness that will accumulate in the years to come. These little joys left me dumbfounded, I smiled knowing that 2017 will have a great start.
Wishing all of you a very happy and prosperous year ahead. Dream on, run mad against the waves that try to drown you. Peace and love.
Walking through the Mysore Palace where history sleeps in all grandeur made my imagination soar high. The intricate carvings made from ivory spoke volumes of the great craftsmanship that was interred to earth along with the glorious age. I pictured myself stepping down the staircase dressed in regal splendour . The stone jaguars at four sides of the palace still fiercely guarded the area. I leant closer to listen to the walls wishing it could recount the tales which it witnessed of the processions, battles won and lost as well as lives it provided a shelter to. Boarding the bus we moved towards the cool region of Coorg after visiting Mysore Zoo and Summer Palace .
The bus sped ahead while mind raced witnessing the wide vistas that overtook outside my window . I gasped at the breath taking beauty while they still ran without a gap. “This is the kind of place I want to live” my soul sang .When fog embraced the hills the blood through my veins thrilled . The cold started to catch up to me and I cocooned into my jacket leaving my face to be teased by the air , who continued to play with my hair . I envy those who call such place a home where winter greets every year . Perhaps its because I come from a place where the season of delight is non existent.We visited The Golden Temple , a Bhuddist monastery when evening encroached the sky and lulled the sun to sleep.The muted zenith gave a new perspective to the ornate monastery . It was as if the grey clouds were waiting for us to get outside to open up and wet us with their tears. I remember the joy I experienced sitting in a cafe sipping steaming coffee after getting wet in the drizzle that caught us off guard.
Mud adorned my slippers ,my feet happily squelched through the dirt reliving childhood . I live in contrary ,grey for me is beauty , it brings out all the rest shades hiding behind a few jostling for attention. These little things replenished my body pulled down by travel . My phone constantly click – clicked greedily capturing these sights into memory. The roads that wound guarded by forests on both sides resplendent with beads of rain produced in me a cry of joy!
Packing up from Coorg we snaked down the bends of Wayanad that beckoned us with greenery tucked into her bosom that nourished many a wild animal . A place that fulfilled my wish to zip line over a river that took the breath out of me . Finally I ticked zip lining out of my bucket list. I trembled at the thought of flying yet when I did it did not last long . I clung for life at the rope that dragged me along the trail . I shouted at the top of my lungs and adrenaline coursed through my veins . Homeward bound weary from the journey my mind bubbled up with ideas to bring to life through my finger tips.
I wish to create such beauty , simple and poignant. The writer in me feasted on the fodder that nature generously bestowed in the form of sights that enticed me and lent me rooted to the spot despite being at home hundreds of miles away.
The writing and pictures belong to ©SV
(Last week I was struck with a thought when I chanced to see the unity of people. My eyes witnessed a vision where people who were divided by religion and region become one to the heady strain of melam. I knew then and there that peace between Nations is not a dream but a possibility. It’s just a matter of finding the right rhythm that can sway us all and sweep us into the bliss of peace .)
The sticks met the drums
Elaathalam clapped with ecstasy
While Kombu trumpeted
Creating a heady strain.
Hands shot up into the air
Elephants decked with gold
Fanned their ears in excitement.
Moon witnessed this
From her balcony in the sky
The crowd swayed wild
Sweaty bodies huddled together
No difference, nay shame.
A sight that struck me
The notion stuck in my head
Peals of melam rocked the ground Reverberation caused
Feet to tap far away.
The temple ground attracted numerous
Contentment etched on the rainbow of faces
The music transported them into a trance
Unity fostered through the bass
Dusk entwined his hands with midnight
Feasting on this heavenly sight
A world without war
A reality that is not afar
It’s just a matter of finding the rhythm.
Kombu and elaathalam are musical instruments used for the festival.
I have been having trouble settling down to write recently. My mind could not fix on a topic that is appealing enough to let words flow uninhibitedly. Thinking along these lines I was laying down when I chanced to see cobwebs up on the roof and I was struck enough to compose a few sentences. That’s when it hit me, I always look for something more when right in front lay muses in abundance and I always tried to stand up on my toes to look for things to write about. And that’s how the following lines were born.
The artist was at work working his eight legs to spin invisible lines covering up that part of the roof now extending to that old Grandfather clock. I stand dazed at how he can turn something mundane into a mystery.
A blood-curdling howl for attention, to peel back those layers of cobwebs. To inspect those things unobserved living more free, independent from things which weigh us down.
I came into contact with my urge to reconstruct commonly occurring things to a new height, something unexplored and never expected. These artists are despised as are their art yet I felt deeply for their efforts. I want to create like them.
I would love to draw attention to those forgotten things, to move people to do what should be done. It’s beautiful how the weak yarns of spiderwebs hold molecules of rain yet still hold themselves upright again creating beauty like a diamond necklace strung by nature. It’s beautiful, elegant like all other natural creations to which we still have not opened up to.
The temperature dropped, bound in warm clothes I stood aghast at the play of lights. Green and red chasing each other, waltzing to their own rhythms. The lights unfurled like silk from a roll, blending to beget more colours. They created patterns on the dark canvas of the sky. This day, I reached a sense of bliss; the echo of the truth that life is a blessing. Through the screen of my phone, I was transported to the North Pole. I felt the wind against my bundled up self playing with me trying to get my attention. Perhaps, he got jealous of my attention to the lights. A sight like this lifts me from the gloom, from the haze of doubts. It shows us our insignificance in this world, bowing Ego’s head in front of the Master craftsmen of this world whose creativity is unrivalled. It is on moments like this that inspire us to create beauty from the banal to make this insignificant life significant for now my phone screen is all I have to witness this miracle from a distance which beckons me to fly all the way. The world is a miracle, life is a vial that contains this miracle. Let’s collect moments that stay on forever.