There are certain instances when one is taken away from the present and is made to dive into the past and dwell into the future. With this reverie of thoughts, one prefers to have a peaceful mind to focus on the present and to live each scene as it slides through the kaleidoscope of our lives.
As I sit at the window sill and watch the orange glow of the evening sun scattered by the thin clouds over the green hills, I feel more than delight for the eyes. The scene completes itslef with the gusts of wind blowing away the clouds as if transcending into a peaceful state. The mix of brown and green reminds me of autumn as leaves free themselves for the only time. Wind and the causal movement of the natural- reflecting the liveliness of nature.
It is not perhaps with everyone that wind can hold a special connection. I believe that memories make connections. My memories of living in windy places makes the breeze so endearing to me. With my life being always near to water bodies, wind came as an inevitable force. It is something now which I feel is necessary.
Simple things are always liked and appreciated. Wind gives you a strong feeling of nature at work. As for me I find it impossible to control my flow of thoughts as I find myself amidst the currents of air.
I feel wind is nothing but a reminder of change and necessity of balance. Nature manifests the need of balance through wind. It speaks of the constant change we must be part of to live life. The need to constantly move so as to make the best of what we have.
Just as the wind leaves behinds scents and the faint hustle behind it, a life in motion also leaves traces for the rest of the world to be seen and marvelled at.
via Daily Prompt: Moon
The moon specified in this essay is our very own Moon of Earth and not any other satellite of some far-flung imaginary planet.
I still remember the moon stalking me as my father drove through on a deserted lane. An eerie presence otherwise, the only assurance being that it was pretty far away. I was rather touched when it dropped me home, untroubled. From then on, I have always been assured of a partner beside me during my nightly walks.
Moon led me to my interest for sciences. Even at the age of 6, I was not deterred from understanding what parallax was. Moon just gave me the feeling of being on the cusp of a serious scientific breakthrough. “I won’t give up to this sombre-looking big round lump of rock”, I said to myself.*
I basked in the moonlight trying to gauge its milkiness which the poets rhymed about. It was neither milky nor cool. It was just reassuring. The invisible aura which hung in the air; waiting to be felt.
For whom the moonlight is not reassuring, the phases and shapes cannot fail to capture attention. I feel the moon being a perfect example of ‘captivation in imperfection’. It is not always your round ball. It is evolutionary. Another event which humans could feel and notice. Another instance when ancient man felt that it could understand nature.
A step on the moon might have been a giant leap for mankind. But we should not allow ourselves too large a leap. The ordeals and the wait for the first footprint on the moon is a testament to the mystery which abounds it, albeit enveloped in the nothingness of space. The spirit of the Moon is not felt through scientists and engineers but by poets and naturalists.
The poetic fascinations of the literary world are seedlings that shall continue to inspire generations of engineers and scientists to come.
*It is said that even Fermat succumbed to this thought when he found it unnecessary to state the proof of xn+yn=zn before it eventually became the famed Fermat’s last theorem. His vanity left the best mathematicians scratching their heads for more than 300 years.
Spending your childhood in Mumbai has a charm of its own. Where people complained of traffic and rush, I was too young to understand any of it. For me, that was the only way of living.
Places changed, people changed, situations changed through my stay of nine years, but one thing which never changed for me were the monsoons of Mumbai. It is of the monsoons which I hold the fondest recollections.
Today, I stand on the balcony and watch the young Ronaldo’s in the rain. I look up to the clouds, which celebrate the happiness below with their applause of incessant rain. It is as if the majestic black clouds notice only the vast fields, sprinkled with merry children, turning a blind eye to the narrow alley of the slum, which fills like the bucket under a tap. I watch the raindrops under the orange light of the lamp-post- my personal rain gauge and anemometer. I mockingly advise the scampering walker-by huddling under the umbrella to enjoy the rain while I stand under the shed. “Oh! This is Delhi”, I think, “People here can never enjoy the rain as us Mumbaikars.”
The dark of the day, the smell of earth and the waving glistening leaves leave me at the gates of childhood. The yarn of childhood reminiscences then unfolds itself as I look through the windows of past. Playing football with my brother under the rain, taking a dip in the pond by the house, waiting for the school to flood and the announcement of a day’s holiday….I feel happy to have lived those moments. I feel fortunate to have been a part of nature’s bounty and beauty. Sitting by the window and watching memories unroll. The bliss of nostalgia.
The pain sets in as the rain dies down. The dismay at my inability to recreate those moments in reality. The dismay that life shall continue as it is. My refuge of memories cast away.
I am happy to surrender my emotions over to nature. Whom else can you? The surrender, devoid of anger and vengeance. The surrender is a reminder of my place in the grand scheme of things. It sows the seeds of humility and gratitude. Humility, which I must subject myself to, shall allow me to behold the beauty of the natural around me.