Have you ever heard the sun play old autumn ditties on the golden strings of its magical guitar? I caught it singing its most tender songs of promise of a new morning to the grasses that stood spellbound – rapt in unspeakable emotion. Drenched by the golden sun shower, the tearful grasses stood – listening with rapt attention to the fading notes as that homeless, carefree vagabond went its solitary way, walking with carefree steps through the singing fields of colourful clouds, above which little black birds hovered in search of last morsels of food. The tender grasses bid farewell to the sun as it walked – far – far – farther away, taking long careless strides which left golden dust flying behind. The sun has to reach another city where the earth is eagerly waiting for it to come and open the door for the morning light to flood in, to smile upon the sleeping grass fields, and scatter jewels from its backpack that always has loads of gems – red rubies and emerald stones and blue topaz.
This blog post was completely unplanned.I was sitting in an open backyard listening to a discussion when I heard faint notes of an old-old song. Who was playing that? who cares for those long forgotten things? I looked around and saw – wild grass, something nobody has time to notice and I saw – the last rays of the setting sun. I have always loved this wild tender grass that appears in this part of the year only. These tender gems hanging on its frail stems look like glowing splinters of sun’s broken glass.Continue reading
After a hot and humid day, monsoon winds came rushing in; the night sky turned red and the earth shivered with the sombre rumblings of dense clouds. It was a magical night – a night of monsoon ragas. I couldn’t sleep. it rained and the night fragrances of Jasmine and the rain-drenched earth asked you to curl up in your easy chair and feel the magic of the night.The night turned into day and left behind quietly on my doorstep its tender monsoon memento – the fragrant Kamini.
these little white flowers look so pure, untouched – they are modesty, gentleness, innocence incarnate.
I was thrilled to see how the tender buds had all bloomed in the early hours of the morning after a sleepless night of bewitching monsoon ragas.