The Street

On my way to college, there is a street on my right hand side. I always pass a look through the street. It is a short street with around twelve to fifteen houses on either side. At the far end of the street, stands a colorful temple. There are open drains and in them pigs soaking the black water. But what makes the street different from the others is the life going on in the street. There is a shop at the opening of the street. It looks busy all the time, people of different ages hang around there smoking or just chatting. Then, there are the ladies, fat, dark-skinned ladies in sari hanging around the gates of some houses often talking to each other in pairs.

Sometimes, I see a large group of school-going children gathered at the entrance to the street. Three or four are big, all others are small, two or three of them ride bicycles, all others walk. The bigger children often talk rudely to the smaller ones. I don't understand what they are talking but their expressions show some form of ragging among them. Likewise, the dirt and folds of their dress tells me they are from lower class families. Do they belong to this street? The condition of the small houses in the street and the get-up of those children hint some connection. But the odds of such large group of similar-aged children belonging to the few houses is less.

These daily views in and around the street make me want to find out more about the street. I want to smell the air, feel the ground, know the topic of the women's daily talk. Is there a hostel in the street where all those children live? Today while returning from the college I will walk through the street - I think this everyday but I never do walk really. Maybe I am too busy with my schedule or maybe its too hot here to walk anywhere without business.

But yesterday on my way to college, I gather enough will and I entered the street. The women were busy with their household chores, the cows tied to the coconut trees sat with a mundane look moving their jaws up and down. The street was full of the foul smell from the drains. And I could feel the hard mud under my feet, soft near few small ditches. I was surprised to find a big house with a car, but the sweet chirping to bird immediately put me back to the state of ecstasy. The birds jumped on the branches of the coconut trees, taking a round flight and landing on another tree. After ages of living, I reached the Naga temple with a triumph. I am alive!!!

Cloudland - my first flight

Some are like bits of cotton scattered here and there, some like melting ice creams, some still bold, like explosions in the sea.... Small clouds in between few large clouds remind me of war time, many soldiers marching on foot and few on elephants.

Below I could see large pieces of clouds with blue-green gaps between them. Seemed like the South Pole, the liquid water seen between the floating icebergs. The clouds at varied heights were like large and small icebergs sailing in the cold sea water. At a farther distance, there was a back cloud with some orange sunlight seeping through it which resembled a colony of penguins with the golden-orange King penguin in between.

Next moment, I was passing over a place covered by thick spider web like it were unvisited for hundreds of years. After some thought I collected that it was actually the distribution of river system in the Bengali Plains. The white colour reflected from the rivers some broad some narrow and all of different lengths gave an appearance of an old spider-net.  

When we were at a lesser height, the sunlight passing through the layer of clouds made light and dark patches on the ground. The lit areas were like being watched from the heaven above. The sharp boundaries of the lighted areas outlined a star-shaped window above my head. And the sunlight that spread upon my forehead gave me a magical experience - like I had achieved moksha.

When I again recaptured my senses, I could see a continuous bed of clouds, felt like a lawn where it was snowing for long. At some places the clouds rose above their level like a bush in the lawn. Sunlight fell on the lawn through a maple leaf shaped window. This is the cloud land - there are plane ice skating pools and large valleys, trees, so beautiful... but still uninhabited. If I were a bird I would make my home on that plot of land in front of the large bush.

When at greatest height, blue sky above, white clouds and blue green ground below but the horizon in the clouds always appeared so colourful - red, orange, golden tempting me to fly that far to reach the paradise. I was trying to reach nearer to it, but maybe it was travelling at the same velocity away from me. At last, I felt like I was reaching nearer to it, a moment of great achievement. But then, I realized the increasing gravity; I was heading back to the world I came from... 

Budding

This is how I discovered my interest in writing..

My father is a lover of classical Hindi songs. He often listens them on TV or on his mobile. This led me too to hear those songs. When I was small I used to enjoy the tune. 

Only lately I started to follow the lyrics. Some songs said "The flame says the boy - don't fall in love or you shall burn like me" (from the song 'pyar diwana hota hai' by Kishor Kumar; the original lines - samaa kahe parwane ko tu pare chala jaa meri tarah jal jayega tu yahan nahi aa) and there were others like "When there is a growing fire, rain calms it down; but when the rain itself sets the fire, who would control it" (from the song 'Chingari koi bhadke' also by Kishore Kumar; the original lines - chingaari koi bhadke, to saawan use bujhaye, saawan jo agan lagaaye, use kaun bujhaye?) I found great fascination to things like the flame speaking to a lover or the rain setting up fire. This inspired me to create something out of my mind. To write my feelings and imagination... here..
(worry not friends, these posts are not out of a broken heart... rather just a pastime :)