|
A Dawn in Bombay
The unmade bed, beckoned, the soft blanket still warm from my body, looked invitingly, sleep filled eyes looked out the
window, and welcomed the dawn. Glorious hues of orange, and pink were wrapped tightly in swathes of grey, hidden from view,
soft grey hid the sky and grey sea peeped from behind long palm fronds. Nature had taken it upon itself to hide the folly
of man and tall trees everywhere covered the dingy, shabby look of the buildings around. Rain washed leaves sparkled and shone
all around. Pure glittering diamonds dropped off rhythmically from the leaves. The breeze moved playfully among the 6 storey
high peepul tree, its heart shaped leaves fluttered breathlessly. The leaves evoked memories of miniature paintings of lovers
painted on dried peepul leaves. The birds made merry in the tree, breakfasting on it's berries, chirping ceaselessly. Over
the sea a flock of egrets made their way busily, seeking their first meal of the day. Tall coconut palms swayed high, above
neem, banyan, almond and other trees that grew around in such profusion. Birds nested in such green grandeur, their voices
clean and pure, filled the air, the crows adding the only discordant note to the otherwise harmonious song. On a window sill
opposite, a pair of pigeons were lost in a passionate kiss. Sleep and the warmth of the bed lost it's allure as I partook
greedily of nature's glorious dawn banquet.
Morning at the Beach
The coastline lies mysterious half hidden, shrouded in the morning mist. The blue sea calm and empty, smooth and undisturbed.
The waves are lapping gently, playing soft soothing music. The long string of beaches almost deserted except for a few scattered
workmen working to restore them to their pristine condition after a weekend of merry making. It is still early and their pace
is slow, like they are reluctant to disturb the restful atmosphere with quick noisy movements. Outside a restaurant cleaner
goes swish, swish with his mop adding a note to the lapping of the waves. Even the seagulls are quiet today, and here and
there one sees a lone crane standing quite still in knee-deep water lost in quiet contemplation. One would almost think they
were lost in meditation if it wasn't for the sudden cocking of the head to one side or the equally sudden swooping into the
water to grab a tasty morsel, Once in a while a cormorant flies overhead busily flapping its wings.
The sprinklers on the green lawns and flower beds that border the promenade are chugging busily, suddenly in the distance
a boat appears, disturbing the still glassy surface of the quiet sea, leaving behind a foamy white wake. Behind it the end
of the curved bay appears half real in the swirling sea mist. Across the road a lone carpenter can be heard hammering like
a busy wood pecker and in contrast to the quietness of the almost deserted beach the road running next to it, The Gulf road,
is busy with cars whizzing non stop at incredible speeds, and from somewhere came the busy chirping of sparrows, one little
gossip monger chirping busily at high speed drowning out all the others, while another tries to gain attention over it by
chirping urgently and loudly, and all the others chorus non-stop, some scolding, some nagging, some just exchanging the time
of day. How on Earth do they ever understand each other I wondered for a moment as I sat there in my reverie, lulled gently
into a dreamy state as the whoosh, whoosh of the cars, the swish, swish of the mop, the lap lap of the waves, the chirp chirp
of the sparrows, the occasional mewling of a discontented seagull, the chug chug of the sprinklers and the knock knock of
a distant carpenter washed over me.
First Rain
They had been coming now since two days, hurrying in to gather as for some important event, collecting, converging till
dusk came before dusk, the sun almost totally obliterated behind their thick blackness, a few rays managing to escape half
heartedly once in a while to warm the earth, and bathe it in a stream of gold, but hidden again quickly, it's light covered
in a dark thick fluffy blanket of clouds. For a moment it struggled to show itself a last attempt before setting, a short
burst of glorious orange, tinging the grey with a crimson tint. The gloom soon descended again over the quiet desert, the
quietness disturbed suddenly by a flock of swallows, warmth seeking visitors from northern lands, they flew around an excited,
noisy bunch, seeking perhaps a new home for the next few months. Once again quietness settled in the desert, which was parched
dry, almost lifeless, except for a few hardy plants that had managed to survive through the scorching hot desert summer, mute
witnesses of the tenacity of living things as they cling to life. How gloomy it looked and yet there was a feeling, hard to
decipher, hard to pin down, a feeling of hushed expectancy, like a much awaited event was about to take place, I felt my breath
catching in my throat as if emulating the millions of seeds waiting expectant breathless under a layer of sand, knowing the
long wait was about to be over, waiting for the first drops of life giving rain, new life just waiting to be born.
Still the rain held, suddenly as darkness gripped the desert from the south came great flashes of light, followed by clappings
of thunder. We watched from the car,
as a glorious sound and light show took place. Awed by the elements, a littlle frightened by the great bangings and clashings
and bright flashes of lightning, we watched in wonder. Suddenly it seemed the heavens opened, fulfilling the promise of the
past two days. Great big drops of water fell on the desert, we breathed in deeply taking pleasure in the fragrance of the
newly wet earth as the first rain fell. and under that layer of sand, those unseen millions and millions of new lives about
to be born, greeted the life giving water excitedly.
Wind Madness
Silvery flashes of lightning streaked madly across the deep dark sky. The promise of a thunderstorm hung heavy in the
air. Suddenly the heavens opened pouring out blessings ensconced in heavy drops of rain. The parched earth sat up and drank
in greedy gulps, breathing in relief. The sweet fragrance of its breath mingled in the air and spread everywhere. The clouds
emptied, the rain stopped. The wind mischievous, playful, took over. Joyfully running over face and hair, teasingly tugging,
tangling each strand. Laughing and shouting it blew excitedly through the trees waking the sleepy branches and leaves, making
them swing and dance and talk in loud whispers.
Waves joined the excitement, lashed to the shore like strange wild creatures, with hair streaming behind them, freed from
captivity.
Wind blowing, branches swaying, leaves whispering, waves lashing, the moon playing hide and seek behind the clouds, the
beach was playful tonight, restless, and mischievous, Pulsating, full of palpable excitement..
A Rainy Moment
Its past 2 am, the heated room feels stuffy, suffocating, sleepless I go to open the window. The cold air enters and mingles
with the warm air escaping from the room the mixture feels pleasant, I look out on to the sleeping world, ensconced in their
warm beds and sound proof homes oblivious to the fact as I was, that the rain has been falling for hours now. The puddles
reflecting the lights, standing proof. A car turns in, it's lights catch the falling raindrops, the water on the road splashes
out and I can hear the swishing sound as it comes closer, then it is gone, sometime later another car comes and goes, the
feeling of total solitude is a bit shaken. But soon the silence takes over again. How quiet it is, how peaceful. I look at
the shadows of the palm trees as they fall on the hotel walls, the lights in the ground turning the palm fronds into frightening
black giants. From between the waving palms I can catch glimpses of the fairy lights in the garden. Once more I turn my attention
to the rain. It falls gently, it's drops light up where they fall by the street lights, It falls slowly at its own pace like
it is not in a hurry to finish its work but enjoy and savour it. Or like an artist painting with an eye to detail. Enjoying
his work. The gentle sound is very soothing and as the world sleeps I look out at the rain's handiwork; the glistening roads,
the puddles everywhere reflecting the light, the clean washed look of the buildings, the side of one building bright as its
tiles catch the street lights, the cars clean and washed and gleaming in the parking lot. Above the sky is light, the heavy
clouds bright in the reflections of the city's lights. I look out, taking in light, reflections, shadows and darkness, and
the rain, the ever falling, gentle rain, like a gentle hand upon the spirit, stroking it soothingly, Am I the only one to
stand and delight in this? There seems to be no one to tarry by the window for a moment and drink the deep peace of the scene
below.
|
