Two Festivals…

Imagine opening your door early in the morning to collect the newspaper, to find this lovely pattern on the street. I didn’t care much for the newspaper as I admired this sight for a minute or two. The last time I was so pleasantly surprised was when I returned home from work one evening, to find a well metalled street (this was just before the elections and the street was a mess). 

An elaborate Rangoli, just below my balcony..

It’s amazing how these small, unexpected events can make one’s day. I walked down the road (my first morning walk in many months) to have a better look at the ‘rangolis.’ For a moment, it was like judging a competition. The smaller ones are a daily fixture, but it was ‘Ganesh Chaturthi’ and the ‘rangolis’ were a lot more colorful and the street bore a festive look.

  

 

On a recent visit to Ahmedabad, trees laden with kites were a common sight; it was a riot of colours. Also every once in a while, a kite would spring out of the foliage as if to break free, but  only to be restricted by its string. Electric poles, transmission wires, any tallish structure which had the potential to claim a kite’s flight, proudly showed off their catch. I was told that during ‘Uttarayan,’ folks in Ahmedabad even avoid cooking and order their food, to make a little more time for kite flying.    

A kite laden tree…

Looking at the vibrant aftermath of the festival almost two weeks hence, I can safely say that Ahmedabd is the place to be in on ‘Uttarayan.’ 

A ladder displays its catch..

*********

A Sea Lover’s Diary..

The Sea

Though I am tempted to walk
I remain seated on the sands,
Like a specter in the evening,
Loneliness for a silhouette.
Have traded innocence with age
And I am not any wiser.

The horizon lies in the shadows
Somewhere, beyond the growing waves,
Beyond the flickering boat lights.
Waves with each foray reclaim
Another stretch of the beach.
And finally, with the last of their breath
Wavelets kiss my toes.
I get up to sit out of their reach
Only to realize I wanted to walk,
Hear the sea, feel his breath

I was here a decade ago,
On a South Indian sojourn,
With acquaintances and family.
I reveled in my first sight of the sea,
With other kids, on this very beach.
I was afraid that time would get
The better of such childhood memories
And render me indifferent to their joys

And though it felt strange at first,
The gloom began to scatter
And the strength returned to my knees
As I relived the awe-struck delight
At my first sight of the sea.

********

On the Rocks

Timbu gazes at the rising moon,
Heedless to the crashing waves.
Waters strive to unsettle his feet,
Some droplets strike his face.

A precursor to a mythical event,
Cleansed in a silversmith’s flame,
Such is the brilliance of this moon,
It will refuse to wane.
 
A lonesome figure on the rocks,
But in a rare moment of grace.
A trickle of pearls on unsuspecting cheeks
Will quench his unrequited rage.

********

Like a River

An occasional raft passes
On this calm stretch
Silent rafters, their fervor
Reserved for rapids ahead

I recall an old melody
To the drone of dragon flies
Drowned at times by chatter
Of approaching village boys

The river sustains life
Beneficiaries all
The dragon flies and I
The boys for their brimming pots

Privy to many a confessions
Warm the embrace for me
When few moments of solitude
At the river banks, I seek

An angst-ridden tear drop
En route to meet the sea
Tinkle of the waters ensures
An immediate relief

An inadvertent memory
Catches me off guard
It inspires a little prayer
Teardrops, unbefitting now

Peace, a constant companion
Her smile, an eternal refuge
Joy a second nature, like this river
Hers be an everlasting youth

********