The River

If I were to give my heart to a river,
This murmuring one would be the one…
For that matter, I had already given this one,
Many summers and memorable childhood daysImage
This beautiful soul has been an occupant of my heart,
For days on end, without fail now
Every day, my wandering mind travels past
Vast water bodies to reach this little one
The one that follows the many bends in her path
With so much ease and élan
That she fills my heart with joy like none
For this one and I share a bond that goes back a long time,
A really long time…
 
I have moved on, so have others with whom she has a bond,
But each time, we think about her, we get the same old feeling
Of wanting to take us into her fold, into her flowing waters,
Into her vigorous tidal spirit,
Bathing us with her bubbly, effervescent self,
Effusing us with her deepest sense of joy,
And here, I am, looking at this picture,
Swathed in nostalgia, enwrapped in a longing
To go back in time, just once more…

Their Love

It’s noon, well and bright,

The breeze is in, going around

Taking the trees on a ride,

The sun is out, happy and content,

Shining bright though the thickets,

Lighting up patterns on the ground,

Beneath thick canopies of my Jamun tree

 

It’s as if there are many others with me,

For, in the wind, shadows dance,

Hopping and tottering like restless squirrels

 

I must go in for a nap,

My body feels the advent of age

My joints ache, my heart too,

But the reason I know not know,

 

I must go close the yard gates

The wind loves to swing the fastened gates,

At times, they wouldn’t give me peace at all,

The wind; it rattles the iron chain on the gates

Metal clanking metal; takes me to my past

When little children made merry

By banging metal spoons on metal plates.

But they aren’t there anymore with me…

 

These noises in my life;

They are disturbing, and peace-depriving,

But they keep other distractions at bay

 

My loneliness I forget on cheerful afternoons like this

While watching shadows

And when the wind attempts to take my clothes

Away from the clothesline

My clips keep them secured, but they do attempt

To tease my strength and my thoughtfulness

 

When there aren’t many reasons to get up

The birds are at my bedroom window,

Calling me out to see them at play,

It’s their way you know,

Of the sun, the wind and the birds

To give me company

It’s their way of telling me that I am not alone

It’s their unspoken language of love

That keeps me going

It’s the reason for old-age days

To wake up in the mornings.

 

Empty Nests

trees-2013-feb-002“Look at that big tree by the side of the road. See, it has no leaves, no flowers and no buds. But it has bird nests. It has two of them. Look closely; do you sense emptiness in and around the nests? The birds have flown away, and it must have been at least a few weeks, isn’t it? Look how windy it is today, but see, the tree holds dearly onto the nests, even when the wind pulls its brittle branches along. Am sure when it snows, with its thin, wiry branches, it’d try to cover the nests. But to shelter whom; does it even know? To shelter this painful vacuum? The only knowledge the tree has is that it gave the birds a home once upon a time, shielded it from rain and shine, even from the cold autumn winds…and that, today, the birds aren’t there, they have gone far…The tree pointlessly hopes one day, the bird may come back, with its proud flock flapping closely.”

“You talk only from the trees’ point of view? Don’t the birds have their story to tell as well?”

“Tell me, what is their story? Won’t you? Are you one of the birds yourself?”

Wow!

Wow!

Wow! Through my kitchen window, I see tiny birds on the lawn, in dozens , peck endlessly. In between, they hop, and take short flights- their shadows sharing their earnestness and energy.

Wow! A soft breeze blows; leaves move gently, just the tips of branches making graceful steps in mid-air. They move again, making me wonder if they are dancing. Next to this big tree, there is a Pine; sturdy and evergreen, ripe with the knowledge that fall is here and now, and then winter and that it must stay on.

Wow! Very next to the Pine is an Apple tree; its branches heavy with fruit. I can just about see a few branches; there are more apples; pink and yellow than leaves. Wow! One apple just fell.

Two women out on their morning walk, in sportswear, one tossing a bottle of water even as they talk non-stop. Enjoying companionship. Enjoying beauty. Wow! They look happy, healthy and content.

The little birds? The ones that were peacefully pecking just a while ago? Hyper on food, they are launching themselves from the roof top, beak-diving into the bushes. They are like naughty children. Wow! This is quite something. And now, what? A couple of them are conferencing on a dish antenna; perched on its rim, oh, but that was just for a split second or so.

Wow! A flock of geese, energy-conservationists, heading south in a perfect V formation, making the most of a sunny day. Miles to cover before they rest. It’s a spectacle.
Wow! Life is beautiful.abeautifulday

www.allfortheearth.blogspot.com

Brevity of seasons, of life

Whenever I step out for a walk, I am claimed by someone else. With each and every new walk that I take, this feeling only gets deeper. Like how last evening, I was possessed by the brevity of seasons. By the brevity of beauty in one form, but which nevertheless gets transformed in no time. Look at the trees outside. They are in an ambitious burst of green. They celebrate green like there are no tomorrows. The trees; at least the ones unaffected by strong winds and erosion make it a point to stand upright and salute the sun, everyday, irrespective of the measurable impact of sunshine, whether the rising sun tinges the sky crimson or not, or it leaves the crestfallen sky in bleeding hues as it bids farewell for the day. They don’t fret over the ever changing expressions of the sun or sky. Like, I wonder why yesterday the horizon looked very different from today, when the sun decided to come up the horizon. But, the trees don’t bother.

Read more here: http://www.allfortheearth.blogspot.com

www.allfortheearth.blogspot.com

An Eager Spring, An Earnest Walk

The day before, I walked to the library with my eight year old. At the end of the walk, as we were returning with a small collection of books and a bunch of vegetables from the farmer’s market, my son proudly said; ‘We should do more of these walks, Amma, instead of always taking the car and polluting the environment.’ Though he made that statement at the lark of the moment, upon unexpected discoveries that gave him great joy and a whole lot of fresh air, I think he meant it.

During our short walk, we stopped by the bramble bushes and trees, the ones lining the busy roads, witness to all the city cacophony, all seemingly barren from a distance, but eager to burst out into yet another season, one of life and iridescent colors. Upon prying them with our eager eyes, we spotted millions of pointed buds, hard, but throbbing with life, dark on the outside, but a reservoir of shades. We looked closer and spied a shade or two on them; some green, some a passionate hue of pink, and still some others purplish.We bent a bit to look at a lowly twig, and stood on our toes to touch a bud on a higher branch. It was an unparalleled experience. We resisted the idea of clicking pictures, just so that we could live in the moment to the fullest.

As we entered the road that lead to our apartment, we also spotted a bird’s nest, nestled on a naked tree. Even from a distance, the nest looked vulnerable with absolute dearth of foliage to offer it any comfort or shade. In the frosty winter winds that just went by, agonizingly for months on end, the nest would have shuddered. Was it then, an abandoned one; we wondered. Other than a squirrel nibbling on crumbs of bread thrown off the patio by a resident eager- to- feed, we didn’t spot any action in the vicinity. No fluttering of wings, no twittering of songs. Of course, we know birds don’t always stay by their nests, the way we do 🙂 We then looked for feathers under the tree, at least one that would give us an idea of the bird house owner or tenant, but we found none.

We chatted our way home, about the sights and sounds, and promised ourselves that we must do more walks soon.

(Please find more of these musings at http://www.allfortheearth.blogspot.com)

Spring Sojourners

spring_snow_deerAt the winding curve,
Where the road splits into two;
The narrower one leading me home,
Amidst the browned stubble on both sides,
My eyes met a delicate deer’s
It’s winter coat plusher,
It’s tail bushier,
It’s eyes opened wide in some new found happiness,
It’s ears upright, gathering sounds in swift eagerness,
It’s sight reinforcing my dream
An early spring may I behold,
Has been the prayer on my lips
Happy I woke up this bright February morning,
With a noisy flock of winged wonders,
Twittering by my window side
Thronging at their new bird house in my patio,
For their share of morning grain
Their songs fall not on my ears,
But on my eager heart
The little songsters of spring dance not
On the wooden handrails of my piazza
Rather in the insides of my soul
As they excitedly flap their wings,
Incessantly in the late winter chill,
They warm the airs around them
Ushering in an early spring
Melting any winter despair left
In the stillness of cold yesterdays.

 

 (Image courtesy: home.comcast.net)