I am visited by butterflies, when I walk into the garden.
Yellow butterflies flying off little yellow flowers as if the whole bunch just grew wings.
Urging me to raise my arms to touch them but in vain.
I am visited by a tiny 🐦bird, when I walk into the garden.
Little black bird residing on the tall green bamboo🎍, chirping as if the bamboo found its voice.
Startling me everytime it flies away.
I am visited by ants 🐜🐜🐜, when I walk into the garden.
Tiny red ones, building anthill in a quiet corner as if the garden were their kingdom, protecting them from rain.
Stinging me, sending shivers up my spine as soon as I step on the grass.
I am visited by strange small white frogs🐸, when I visit the garden.
Jumping to hide in the hedge, making it shake as if the hedge acquired dancing feet.
Making me jump back, petrified their predators🐍 may follow soon.
I am visited by droplets of water falling down from wet leaves.
Creepers bowing, shaking off their flowers on me, greeting me in the mornings.
Reminding me I am alive and awake, when I visit my garden.
The sky burst open like a volcano, spewing lava in all directions, spreading, flowing like river of death. Consuming everything in its wake and its path.
It burst open like a heart, broken into a million pieces, bleeding pain. Consuming the one whose was broken.
It’s just a way of looking at things,
for the sky exploded with warm gentle sunlight, spreading, flowing like river of life. Reviving everything in its wake and its path.
It exploded like a heart, into a million pieces, with joy that could’nt be contained inside anymore. Revitalizing, disburdning, whose burst.
It’s just a way of looking at things,
For even if it were lava, time turns the fields of destruction into most fertile lands.
For even if the heart were broken, time gives ample opportunities to heal and repair, turning it into flourishing abode.
It’s just a way of looking at things.
Someone stole my pomegranate flowers.
I had been counting days, one day at a time, for the tree to be blessed with flowers. That day arrived when the buds appeared on the branches as tiny orange teardrops. Slowly growing bigger and opening up like little butterflies with delicate wings. But the tree discarded them.They were not strong enough to turn into fruits.
The wait began again, a few months’ time, slowly, one day at a time, weeks , months and the orange beads of joy appeared again. This time higher in number.They opened their wings again and yet again the tree discarded them.
The whole year had gone by, never ever had this tree been bare for so long. Miracles of the nature took charge, seasons changed and the tree was once again ready for blooming. Finally three flowers held tight to the stems, the stems bowing gently in their honour, supporting the growing weight. My spirits soared high, the wait was over. The flowers started swelling up like a pregnant belly, the delicate petals were starting to be engulfed and protected by a hard shell, half flower half fruit. I was going to be a proud caretaker.
It was a beautiful morning, I went to water the plants and there it was! A bare tree, as if it had suffered a miscarriage. I looked for the flowers on the ground as they never fall far from it, but they were nowhere to be found, it seems someone had plucked them.
How inconsequential the act must have been for that person? Just a fancy for orange flowers!
The same thing is true in life too, someone’s hard-work, life’s achievements, joys, pain rendered inconsequential in seconds by the inconsiderate action of another person.
Scorching Sun dries and makes brittle the leaves, Earth starts tearing up like honeycomb.
Birds fly high and low to find just a few drops of water to quench their thirst. Stray animals find shade under the trees and in abandoned half built houses.People try to stay indoors to be safe from the brutal heat.
…and then the clouds are summoned, vast expanse of sky turns grey, air turns cool, wind picks up speed.Dust swirls make small whirlwinds with dried leaves, the wind chimes start tinkling rhythmically, trees start swaying to the music of dust filled breeze,eyes are turned towards the sky, in anticipation of that first drop.
…and when the first drops fall and hit the dried earth, the smell of wet earth intoxicates the senses like thousand sirens. The drops turn to a gentle shower, a drizzle, sky makes noise to declare freedom from heat, lightening is like celebration of nature.Dust settles, plants get a well deserved wash, roads start shining. Dogs in the neighbourhood start barking, going round and round in circles with their tongues sticking out.
People come out of the homes for no reason at all, conversations start budding.Children start dancing, screaming, getting wet, soaked,
drenched.Grown ups also stretch their arms to feel the rain on their palms as if they have never touched water before.
The first shower of summer is like magic, magic which leaves us desiring for more, to experience more, to enjoy more, to feel more, to live more .
There are just two alternatives in life,either be happy or sulk, either admire or criticize, either laugh or cry.The choice is ours to make.
Those who always see negative in everything are the ones who let happiness slip away from their fists like sand.Slowly draining life from them, while those who focus on positives are the ones capturing happiness in their fists like air.Air, which stays even when the fist is open.
Life is neither a bed of roses nor a field of thorns.It is a combination of both.People searching for happiness outside of their own hearts are the ones who never find it or miss on it, for it is a state of mind, a desire ,a tenant of the soul.
They do not absorb the goodness in their surrounding, they sulk,complain, criticize,make others uncomfortable, get ignored and mistreated by others.People avoid their company, pretend to be indifferent to their needs and definitely do not want to waste their emotions and energy in pacifying or placating these tortured souls.
Unfortunately, they are like thunderbolts which attract attention, cause severe damage and are finally forgotten.
On the other hand, there are people who bring out from within themselves the most common yet the rarest of feelings;happiness, joy.Sprinkling the world with their laughter , love and positive energy.These people brighten other people’s lives. They absorb pain and pleasure around them and convert it into energy which is like evergreen music.
They are like monsoon rain, which washes all the dirt , cleans everything and leaves a lasting impression.For they embrace life as it is without any complains.
The choice is ours, who we want to be? How we want to spend the rest of our lives? What we want to achieve?
One of the most joyous, happy, fun filled festivals of Hindus. It brings people of India together, irrespective of their cultural or religious beliefs. The spirit of Holi rubs on people like perfume in the air. The colours of Holi bind the people of India into one beautiful multicoloured fabric.