Trying to strain out an ounce of symphony amidst all the cacophony of this world, that is difficult task, I tell you. But that's what I do, and that's what I'm getting good at, with each passing day, as I age.
The flowers turned to fruits, and I heard the birds clamouring during Spring. Now, Spring has given way to Summer. Seasons change, I change the pages of my calender ritually and await something to change in me, something that will stir me from inside..
I have seen the canal swell when it rains too heavily..It groans and wallows with the extra load that the torrential downpour brings to it. It's a burden but a joyful one, if there's any such thing. I long for one, for such joyful burden.
The sudden smell of wet earth that awakens my senses makes me turn my head and surprises me. It surprises me because the last time I looked, it was sunny outside, but all I saw now was an overcast sky, the imminence of rain. Does it bring hope or does it destroy the hope of something better?
Too afraid to go out on a humid afternoon, I did finally step outside and took a long walk. The wildflowers were dancing, there were droplets of water on the blades of the grasses..The Krishnachura ( Royal Poinciana ) was abounding in her fiery redness, celebrating the annual song of peak summer, the path below painted with her trampled red bounty. I picked one, brought it home. It doesn't last long, not even in some water..But the few moments of joy I spent with it was enough for me. Memories can't be measured in time. The moments are transient, it's the memories they create which matters.
You hear something, and it makes you wander. You watch a movie and you are distracted for days together. What is it inside of you that is never satisfied, however hard you try? They say you are not grateful for the things you have. But do you know what all those things are that you can't see but others can? I see the grass is green, but why is it always greener on the other side of the road?
Life takes a twist and someone is snatched away from you. Sometimes, you can still feel them near you, sometimes you can't. But, nonetheless, you are saddened by both. To have and to hold, to have and to hold..Didn't remember that when there was still time and oppurtunity.
A flower seller's kid wanted to shake hands with me one day. I didn't hesitate and he gifted me a small rose in return- a beautiful one, yellow with carefree shades of crimson. Little things in life touches you in an unforgettable manner, makes your being here worthwhile. Makes you want to stay here forever.
Unknown birds sing outside my window. I look for them like I do for the birds whose calls I can recognize. They are all hidden away in their special cozy corners, and doesn't want to make themselves seen. But I sieve out joy in the melody of those songs I can hear, from the sorrow of not being able to see them.
There is always a certain amount of happiness in waiting. Waiting for a letter which might never arrive, for a package you ordered online although you might find faults in your purchase upon receiving it, for a flower whose bud you saw yesterday, for a bite of the cake you might be baking...The symphony amongst all the cacophony, all the confusion of life...
And there's hope. The eternal hope and the immense belief in the power of hoping. Hope that one day you will pass the test and survive. That one day, you will have to stop taking any more tests. That one day, you will see that unknown bird, and you will see all the newly hatched ducklings, lining up behind their mom and know, that this time, every one of them will survive. That one day, there will be a garden, and at it's farthest corner, there will a cherry tree, bursting with her glorious blossoms, promising me cherries, in the near future...
The flowers turned to fruits, and I heard the birds clamouring during Spring. Now, Spring has given way to Summer. Seasons change, I change the pages of my calender ritually and await something to change in me, something that will stir me from inside..
I have seen the canal swell when it rains too heavily..It groans and wallows with the extra load that the torrential downpour brings to it. It's a burden but a joyful one, if there's any such thing. I long for one, for such joyful burden.
Too afraid to go out on a humid afternoon, I did finally step outside and took a long walk. The wildflowers were dancing, there were droplets of water on the blades of the grasses..The Krishnachura ( Royal Poinciana ) was abounding in her fiery redness, celebrating the annual song of peak summer, the path below painted with her trampled red bounty. I picked one, brought it home. It doesn't last long, not even in some water..But the few moments of joy I spent with it was enough for me. Memories can't be measured in time. The moments are transient, it's the memories they create which matters.
You hear something, and it makes you wander. You watch a movie and you are distracted for days together. What is it inside of you that is never satisfied, however hard you try? They say you are not grateful for the things you have. But do you know what all those things are that you can't see but others can? I see the grass is green, but why is it always greener on the other side of the road?
Life takes a twist and someone is snatched away from you. Sometimes, you can still feel them near you, sometimes you can't. But, nonetheless, you are saddened by both. To have and to hold, to have and to hold..Didn't remember that when there was still time and oppurtunity.
A flower seller's kid wanted to shake hands with me one day. I didn't hesitate and he gifted me a small rose in return- a beautiful one, yellow with carefree shades of crimson. Little things in life touches you in an unforgettable manner, makes your being here worthwhile. Makes you want to stay here forever.
Unknown birds sing outside my window. I look for them like I do for the birds whose calls I can recognize. They are all hidden away in their special cozy corners, and doesn't want to make themselves seen. But I sieve out joy in the melody of those songs I can hear, from the sorrow of not being able to see them.
There is always a certain amount of happiness in waiting. Waiting for a letter which might never arrive, for a package you ordered online although you might find faults in your purchase upon receiving it, for a flower whose bud you saw yesterday, for a bite of the cake you might be baking...The symphony amongst all the cacophony, all the confusion of life...
And there's hope. The eternal hope and the immense belief in the power of hoping. Hope that one day you will pass the test and survive. That one day, you will have to stop taking any more tests. That one day, you will see that unknown bird, and you will see all the newly hatched ducklings, lining up behind their mom and know, that this time, every one of them will survive. That one day, there will be a garden, and at it's farthest corner, there will a cherry tree, bursting with her glorious blossoms, promising me cherries, in the near future...
