Heavy rains since yesterday. There is a feeling of wetness, even though one is dry. This constant, incessant downpour with intermittent periods of relief sets your mind to a different rhythm. Going out is not very easy- the umbrella becomes an extension of your hand, and coming back home is not easy too. You can't think of sinking into a chair till you have thoroughly washed your rain soaked feet off all the muck that stuck on to you from the wet world outside. And once you are done with it all, you sit and relish the sound of the rain- pitter, patter, pitter, patter- that rhythmic fall, soaking up the earth- and together with the wind- making the plants and trees dance with joy. Joy is the word that comes to mind when you watch the rain from inside a moving vehicle, the brightly lit up night world reflected in the big and small poodles of water on the road, and when you watch the drizzle from the window in your home, and look at the drops of water cling on to the window pane; and the joy that you feel when you wake up next morning to find the window pane dotted with rain drops from a rain that stopped long ago. Kolkata rain- even when it stops, it stays with you.
leafline
Monday 26 August 2013
The Waiting
I wanted to write a poem
It looked like my mind was made up,
but the page remained empty,
and the ink waited to dance into beautiful words.
Outside, the wind swept away the fallen leaves,
the clouds threatened rain.
Inside, the clock ticked away,
time hung heavy.
Like the time before a bud blooms,
holding all the colour and fragrance inside,
before the flower opens up and sings its song to the world.
My poem too waited to sing,
and even though the words were still not out,
it was a delightful secret fluttering in my heart.
It looked like my mind was made up,
but the page remained empty,
and the ink waited to dance into beautiful words.
Outside, the wind swept away the fallen leaves,
the clouds threatened rain.
Inside, the clock ticked away,
time hung heavy.
Like the time before a bud blooms,
holding all the colour and fragrance inside,
before the flower opens up and sings its song to the world.
My poem too waited to sing,
and even though the words were still not out,
it was a delightful secret fluttering in my heart.
Himalayas
I remember you, Himalayas
It feels like only yesterday, when,
I first felt your presence.
You stood there in the darkness-
still, imposing, and mysterious.
I was awed, and speechless.
Your overpowering, magnetic pull gripped me all through the night.
And next morning,
when I wanted to catch a glimpse of you,
you were covered in mist
It was all white.
And yet, I could feel your energy,
it moved me strangely.
Slowly, the mist gave way,
and you appeared,
as mesmerizing as you looked in the darkness.
I was transfixed, beyond time and space,
On a different plain.
And, after all these years,
far away from you,
I only have to close my eyes, and wait for the mist to clear away.
It feels like only yesterday, when,
I first felt your presence.
You stood there in the darkness-
still, imposing, and mysterious.
I was awed, and speechless.
Your overpowering, magnetic pull gripped me all through the night.
And next morning,
when I wanted to catch a glimpse of you,
you were covered in mist
It was all white.
And yet, I could feel your energy,
it moved me strangely.
Slowly, the mist gave way,
and you appeared,
as mesmerizing as you looked in the darkness.
I was transfixed, beyond time and space,
On a different plain.
And, after all these years,
far away from you,
I only have to close my eyes, and wait for the mist to clear away.
Saturday 3 November 2012
Breathless Surprise
The thoughts hold my breath,
and take me by surprise.
I never came to know,
when the seeds of these thoughts
were planted in my mind...
but it all seems to come together
in a single instant,
in one singular moment
of breathlessness and surprise.
And the whole world begins to feel new again.
Thoughts flow out like a fresh mountain stream..
The foggy mist blurring the eyes clears away,
and there is so much more to see.
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