In the hours of dusty afternoon when the water is cold and crystal clear
The river calls me.
On the sun baked land the banyan tree stands alone in silent meditation.
Like a mother it seems happy to have some quiet time to itself
Soon the noisy birds will return in its lap to claim their place for the night’s rest.
Till then it enjoys in solitude its affinity with river.
On the other side of river long green sugarcane leaves dance with soft breeze.
Farmers have left the field for afternoon siesta.
The tree, the sugar cane and I, all are happy to be alone.
Sitting under the tree I watch the water hitting its raised roots
Restless and agitated as a disturbed mind
But at distance afar river water looks as calm and translucent as the thoughts of a yogi, enveloping my mind with its tranquility.
I raise my Saree to my knees and walk slowly in the water.
In the waist deep water the Saree cloth spreads like a balloon around me ready to take me away.
I make circles in water and hold the cold water in my hand only to watch it drain from my cupped hands.
Here nothing is mine to hold yet every thing is mine for the moment
I take few steps to sink deep in to water to vanish somewhere in its depth.
The force of water throws me up
The river laughs-
Lay no claim to the yonder!
For fear of unknown I go no further
I loose the grip of sandy bottom to float on the surface.
The cold water takes away all my tensions
And makes me feel like a child finding joy in its surroundings
How long was my stay in water-- I don’t know
Time the creation of movement lost it value for a while.
Oblivious to the world below, the Sun-- master of life’s rhythm moves forward in its westward journey spreading its orange glow in the sky
It must be following a higher command.
Rested and rejuvenated I come out of water
As I walk towards home holding my wet Saree
I watch my sand covered feet leaving impressions on sandy path
Knowing fully that in due time my faint footprints shall disappear
 |
| This picture revives some old memories of a river that ran at the boundaries of our house back home. |
The river calls me.
On the sun baked land the banyan tree stands alone in silent meditation.
Like a mother it seems happy to have some quiet time to itself
Soon the noisy birds will return in its lap to claim their place for the night’s rest.
Till then it enjoys in solitude its affinity with river.
On the other side of river long green sugarcane leaves dance with soft breeze.
Farmers have left the field for afternoon siesta.
The tree, the sugar cane and I, all are happy to be alone.
Sitting under the tree I watch the water hitting its raised roots
Restless and agitated as a disturbed mind
But at distance afar river water looks as calm and translucent as the thoughts of a yogi, enveloping my mind with its tranquility.
I raise my Saree to my knees and walk slowly in the water.
In the waist deep water the Saree cloth spreads like a balloon around me ready to take me away.
I make circles in water and hold the cold water in my hand only to watch it drain from my cupped hands.
Here nothing is mine to hold yet every thing is mine for the moment
I take few steps to sink deep in to water to vanish somewhere in its depth.
The force of water throws me up
The river laughs-
Lay no claim to the yonder!
For fear of unknown I go no further
I loose the grip of sandy bottom to float on the surface.
The cold water takes away all my tensions
And makes me feel like a child finding joy in its surroundings
How long was my stay in water-- I don’t know
Time the creation of movement lost it value for a while.
Oblivious to the world below, the Sun-- master of life’s rhythm moves forward in its westward journey spreading its orange glow in the sky
It must be following a higher command.
Rested and rejuvenated I come out of water
As I walk towards home holding my wet Saree
I watch my sand covered feet leaving impressions on sandy path
Knowing fully that in due time my faint footprints shall disappear
awesome description autnty
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