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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August 15, 2012 § 3 Comments

26th January 2012 (0952hrs)

 

The nation celebrates its becoming a Republic.

Among all the imagined borders that crowd our globe, this little village finds its own. Tracks of railing separate the old village from the new, with an intermediary crossing that presents an illusionary fluidity. The new village is more accessible from the main road, is a few meters closer to the nearest town and has its own load shedding pattern that differs from the old. The old village lies as it was for a decade during which politicians, educators, doctors and businessmen created new space for themselves. Some were from nearby towns looking to settle where land is cheaper and yet accessible by road. However, most were of the village, merely choosing to display their prosperity and power in a place slightly distanced from their own. With time, others from the old have moved into the new, but remain off the cemented roads to maintain a familiar drainage system. Even though the old and new are distinguished with freshly acquired notions of what each says about the other and themselves, for mostly political purposes, they remain as one.

Celebrations were held in the old village with all the old and new villagers participating. In the old village lies the public school and local government offices, both at which flags were hoisted. The hoisting of these flags was to conclude a procession through the village, led by the school band and children. Teachers and political leaders followed with most other villagers remaining spectators. The morning commenced with rounds of trained physical displays and the honouring of Gandhi and Ambedkar, whose frames sat garlanded on armed plastic chairs.

The time after this auspicious occasion was rigorously and solely focused on the upcoming elections. Rickshaws running on man or horsepower were mounted with speakers along with symbols honouring principles of various political parties and individuals. This time round, people’s votes ensure power at the village and district level. The only issue at hand that all the candidates seemed to agree on was a song which would for certain gain them votes. This made matters testing for the voting populace as all were individually fighting for unity.

Villagers soon began discussing our political affiliations on the basis of whom we most interacted with. Here, personal relations determine voting choices. Free alcohol on the day of the elections runs the risk of ruining all the hard worked at friendships, but most claim to stay loyal and continue reaping friendly benefits.

In the dusk of this political skyline, cows continue to be milked, families continue to arrange marriages, boys continue games of cricket and marbles while girls prepare meals for the house, and farmers continue to choose death over unyielding fields.

Soon, it was time to leave.

July 17, 2012 § 6 Comments

“Think of our life in nature, – daily to be shown matter, to come in contact with it, – rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks! The solid earth! The actual world! The common sense! Contact! Contact! Who are we? Where are we?”

Henry David Thoreau

Travelling backwards, from one sea to another, we carry so much of ourselves with us. There is nothing distinct, simple or stable about these lands we traverse. The city that raised and sheltered me is as unknown and misunderstood as any new landscape I might discover. And whilst home has less to do with familiarity, it is becoming to separate myself from a familiar in order to redefine meaning.

I know myself better now, but understand me far less. For once and always, the blissful delight and unknowing of the present is all that is worth revelling in.

July 2, 2012 § 5 Comments

A roundness and fullness of days where each moment peers quizzically at you, wondering how it could be of service; I’ve never had time like I did this past year. To watch seasons turn and the sky rise on the faces of trees as light fills every vein on this earth. That morning light that emits a deep glow as it scales down the tallest of mounds, ever fleeting. I watch not the sun rise, but the land it lights up. Every face is anew in its passing glance of yellow that all too soon becomes a glaring heat laden with shadow. Within it lie reminders of wellbeing and wonder, quickly lost to the ensnaring busyness of the daytime. It may be transient, but remains a part of every hope-filled day.

June 14, 2012 § 4 Comments

As distance grows and desires reassemble, daylight begins a waltz.

Tucked amidst the clouds, decades of books lie scattered, as soft jazz calls out to the rain. We search through more than ourselves as fading paper reminds us of journeys we’ve taken only with our minds. In memory of who we were and who we sought to be, we gather wet soil and mould another becoming day. To remember that our lives are but fleeting, and that tomorrow will bring more rain.

Tomorrow, there will be.

June 8, 2012 § 6 Comments

Rain lightly dusts us in a breeze rattling through tea bushes and silver oak, reminiscent of the spray of the sea.

The monsoons arrived a week ago and were quick to kidnap the steady sun. We soon found ourselves in the liberating shackles of clouds as they began reclaiming the mountains with plundering winds. We seem to have returned to the routine madness of the skies, as light and warmth joyously dance through our valleys in silence.

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