Bombay Blue-Rocks

September 12, 2012 § 4 Comments

An experiment in flight –

a scurry of seeds,
and birds and men.

Light hurries;
the sea pulls away
as another landed frenzy resumes.

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December 31, 2011 § Leave a comment

With visitors, comes the sun and all its shine hoping to please. Eager are the skies as they clear the dust and clouds that clutter their wares and display their pristine blue brightness. The animals and children rush forth their greetings and friendships are struck as quickly as cameras appear. Just more family, they say. It’s important to stay close in the mountains, where land slides off more land, roads bend sharply decentring you, cold winds chase after you and wilderness lurks. Yet, this holiday season, when all visited, we welcomed them and did our best to keep them warm and safe.

And as they wandered off, back to the plains, so did all sensibility. I smiled, as the wind curdled the dense mist that began to appear, and knew I needed to be on my own to revel in its madness.

December 19, 2011 § 1 Comment

Festivities and the atmosphere they bring are travelling with the winter winds that roam these hills. Christmas, Hethai habba and Pongal; all to be celebrated within the next thirty days. Young people flock back to the hills that schooled them with resounding zeal, that can’t help but bring smiles to most faces. Families make time for each other as stories are exchanged, foods begin to taste better and the sky turns an even more ridiculous blue. There may be more errands to run, but the warmth they provide is comforting. And for the first time, I feel one with it all; as if this moment was waiting, resting in the depths of these valleys, only to smile warmly at me before rushing forward and swallowing me whole.

December 17, 2011 § 2 Comments

It isn’t often you find someone who understands when you speak of the socialisation of wild boar and the innate contradiction therein that stares you in the eye. Some conversations allow for as much growth as they do humility. Within these Blue Mountains lie multiple scores of understandings and meanings that, once experienced, leave you feeling humbled and privileged. I wish to remain here and in this way of being; maybe not for always, but for now.

December 13, 2011 § 4 Comments

To rid oneself of one’s head hair is an oddly liberating act; its significance overlooked until experienced. All concern for appearance is removed with its removal, especially when done so in a land wherein women’s beauty is defined by long, luscious hair.

In this settled town, the familiar is often taken for granted resulting in many misunderstandings when asked politely if my going bald would be a possibility. With time, much convincing and a zero blade razor, I was free to feel the weather and world on my head. The following days, shock hit people first. I managed to unabashedly drop jaws, reduce words to silences and provide instant amusement to children who openly pointed and laughed. Not knowing who I was, these reactions seemed more to be directed at the reality that there was a bald girl in these hills. This in itself proved to be far more interesting and engaging an experience, as opposed to going bald in a city of familiar faces.

Now, a month later, everyone seems to have recovered from these various bout and my odd appearance has been normalised. The only reminder that remains is that of a little girl who cannot go a day without asking to feel my head.

November 27, 2011 § Leave a comment

Words seemed to have escaped me temporarily, like the shadows that run wild when my torchlight approaches.

The electricity was one of the many necessities washed away by the rain these past days. With work and dinner invitations, there hadn’t been much time to experience its absence. Sunday brought with it horrific winds and a pointed finger at my need for these flowing electrons. With everything from entertainment to meals depending on electricity, I was forced to venture outside despite the weather. At tea & coffee parlours and homes, people huddled together to keep warm with drinks and chatter. As we peered out at the rain and winds that tried their best to fight our spirits, it didn’t matter that I didn’t entirely understand the words of my neighbours; tea in a dark corner and their voices were enough to remind me that I was home.

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