Heart

In the Garden

garden-stairs-323118

Wretched marigolds

peeved at the rudeness of the garden turned yellow

Silly roses

angered at the heat of women burning red

Despicable tulips

shrunk at the thought of men going lean

Pitiful daffodils

laughing unamused at clouds gone berserk!

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The Earliest Memories-2

English: Mango tree in full bloom

Red and black ants swarming the chipped bark of the mango tree that rests on the ground. It rained all last night. I pick up this piece of disowned wood and see that it is in shreds and has been rotting while lying untouched on the way. Thanks to all the rain and absence of any sun. Fanning the ants running on my hands off I walk ahead. One of my legs sinks in the mud. The slipper refuses to leave the swamp and I try to lift my foot out of it. I try doing so forcibly. The slipper parts unwillingly and emerges accompanied with a spurt of smooth soil- water paste all over the back of my shirt and trousers. All potential energy of the earth gets converted into kinetic. This splash over the uncovered portions of my skin irritates. Walking further ahead I bend to scratch and itch the feeling away. The little muddy droplets mingle with the hair on my leg and clog the free flow of my fingers over them.

A plot of thoroughly tilled land comes my way. Men, women and children would possibly bend all day and sow the paddy seedlings today. The tractor on a previous day has already dismantled the plain earth of this field as it must have existed and its ploughing blades have left a uniform pattern of undulating crests and troughs in the furrows. On the face of it, this zig zag of the soil appears solid and undaunted by the excessive pour. Believing it to be taut I put my right foot on one of those little mounds only to check if it is actually as dry as they all appear to be. The foot sinks and sinks. Oh! It sinks and sinks further.

By now, the lower end of my trousers must have a thick coat of useless clay uniformly painted over it. The folds that I made in the trousers a while ago must be heavy with a lot of slush settled down in there. The mess I am in!

The mere thought of walking on a concrete road laden with baked bricks feels like bliss. A monkey on the nearby guava tree jumps around from one of its branches to another. So many fruitlets it spoils that otherwise would have matured into full awesome tasting fruits.

From the grotesque muddy path through the field that I am in, I see the road that I did not take because of the distance it could have added to my walk back home. People walking, riding on cycles, scooters and motorcycles seem to move so freely as if the air around them were lubricant of a kind. The one encircling me is static and has edges so sharp that I can’t move. It is one of those moments when the world appears indifferent to one’s plight. I will never be out of this mess, I am convinced. Frowning at myself, I curse the moment when the decision to take this ‘shortcut’ was made. Should I go back to where I started from and then choose that royal road? No- That would be a lot of walking back. The destination is still very far off and I choose to somehow proceed once again. I think of all the lovely things imagined about these villainous fields- “Ten thousand I saw at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance” must have been one such field teeming with smiling daffodils. And also of all the songs that are shot in such lands- the ones where the heroes sing and dance and romance. Who would know of the marshy nuisance these fields are once a year at least. It is only mud here and nothing else. Earth that sticks, stains and perturbs. Throwing away the slipper should help I think. Even to throw it away I would need to take it out of the mucky gorge in the first place. The braces of my chappal stretch to their limit as I pull my leg out once again with all the effort possible. The braces are about to snap. The earth releases the leg and retains my slippers. In the process I lose balance, my hands search for support. There is nobody around and no tree trunk to hold on to. Just the expanse of the fields with a few trees here and there. A fresh contingent of super dark clouds approaching me from the distant horizon. I fall on my hands and the moist green grass on the strip that divides the fields between brothers wets my palms. Broken and crushed blades of fresh green grass, numerous tiny dark shreds of rotting wood and a little insect land on my palm when I regain posture. I rub the palms against each other so as to drive off the rot and the insect and the greens. The palms don’t rub as smoothly as they would when I get up early morning everyday. To dry these palms I once again rub them against my butt and the soft cloth of my trousers takes care of the rest. My hands smell awfully bad. As if testifying to the act of murdering nature- the one I just carried out twice- first in my head and then in the depths of my heart.

Heart

A Character

 

 

A Character

 

 

I marvel how Nature could ever find space,
For so many strange contrasts in one human face;
There’s thought and no thought, and there’s paleness and bloom,
And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom.

 
There’s weakness, and strength both redundant and vain;
Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain,
Could pierce through a temper that’s soft to disease,
Would be rational peace–a philosopher’s ease.

 
There’s indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds,
And attention full ten times as much as there needs;
Pride where there’s no envy, there’s so much of joy;
And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy.

 
There’s freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare
Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she’s there,
There’s virtue, the title it surely may claim,
Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name.

 
This picture from nature may seem to depart,
Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart;
And I for five centuries right gladly would be
Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he.

 

-William Wordsworth

 

 

 

 

Heart

Sounds

Wanted to share this poem I was reminded of this evening. What I find adorable about this one is its amazing ability to force us to listen to all the various sounds that the brook makes on its way to join the brimming river. Who says sounds and sights are best captured on high-definition digital cameras and sound recorders? Recite it aloud or silently read it – you get the same audio-visual effects each time!

The Brook by Alfred Lord Tennyson

 

I come form the haunts of coot and hern,

I make a sudden sally

And sparkle out among the fern,

To bicker down a valley.

 
By thirty hills I hurry down,

Or slip between the ridges,

By twenty thorpes, a little town,

And half a hundred bridges.

 
Till last by Philip’s farm I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

 
I chatter over stony ways,

In little sharps and trebles,

I bubble into eddying bays,

I babble on the pebbles.

 
With many a curve my banks I fret

By many a field and fallow,

And many a fairy foreland set

With willow-weed and mallow.

 
I chatter, chatter, as I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

 

I wind about, and in and out,

With here a blossom sailing,

And here and there a lusty trout,

And here and there a grayling,

 
And here and there a foamy flake

Upon me, as I travel

With many a silvery waterbreak

Above the golden gravel,

 

And draw them all along, and flow

To join the brimming river

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,

I slide by hazel covers;

I move the sweet forget-me-nots

That grow for happy lovers.

 
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,

Among my skimming swallows;

I make the netted sunbeam dance

Against my sandy shallows.

 
I murmur under moon and stars

In brambly wildernesses;

I linger by my shingly bars;

I loiter round my cresses;

 
And out again I curve and flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

Heart

Red

You paint all those sights which are worthy of being called a feast for the senses of a thrill deprived joy gatherer. Center staged and firmly seated on the throne of the universe, you rule all romance and reason. The whites, the blues, the greens and the blacks connive and plot and fume and never succeed. King you were and that will you be.

Characterizing all epiphany, love and contempt, joy and energy, your chariot keeps passing through the minds and hearts of the fragile and the wicked. Trails left on the damaged tissues blacken only later. The way angry faces succumb to your domination and the way joyful veins willingly carry you to the limbs of the two-year old…wow! What of flora and fauna should I say? You have been a miser with flowers, birds and beasts. Red marigolds, red cranes and red peacocks would have been wonderful. Do think about it. The mischief of blue worked and it got the skies. Nothing to worry about. No one looks at the sky anymore. The greenery that once challenged your rule is now only a matter of the dining table and the white and black remain restricted to the wise and the refined. Do not rob these little ones further of their hard-earned misfortunes. Your influence remains as pervasive as ever.

Be wary of your kin though. The maroons and the pinks for instance! Keep such contamination in check. They have been for sometime now standing up in your name and representing you. You are at your best only in a state of purity. The state when the eyes can no more look at you, the mind can no more think of you and the heart can no more pump of you. You have been seen, thought and pumped only because you allowed for a mingling with the dark and the dull. Keep them at bay. It will be a boon for men if not the others who are no more intense. Your contamination has made them so. Make a note that the dull and the dark are beginning to achieve the status of a celebrity.

One more thing. You are being misrepresented in the world. Try painting all flags red. Those who have done so already seem to present you to me in a very nauseating way. Get up and take the world by storm once more. Fill it with beauty, joy, pleasure and bloodshed. Leave nothing untouched. I will rejoice. Hail to thee!