The 3:00 AM Post

This morning I woke up when the sky outside was still dark. Very dark . Having never witnessed this part of the day , I got up and hurriedly threw open all the doors and windows . The cool breeze ruffled my hair and as I stood in the balcony , I could hear the distant whir of the A/Cs . In another world , people were still sleeping and were perhaps lost to dreams . It would be hours before they would wake up . Until then this stillness was mine . This moonlight was mine . These stars were mine . I inhaled deeply and looked at the silhouetted coconut trees and the buildings . The space between them looked different at this time of the day . Just as I was about to go inside , I heard her shrill cries . They came in quick succession of ones and twos as though she had made an amazing discovery. I smiled and went inside to make myself a cup of coffee . The koel had woken up just like me  and was trying to tell me the sky belonged as much to her as it belonged to me . I nodded in silent agreement  and waited for her call once again .

 

(C) : Sridevi Datta 

Picture clicked by P outside Etikoppaka , a beautiful village on the outskirts of Vizag .

Z for Zen Moments

Late last evening after my usual walk, as I sat on a bench, two kids caught my attention. The elder of them might have been aged seven and the younger one might have been around one and half to two years . The park is nothing fancy and there is a tiny cemented fence (maybe one and a half feet high ) that separates the walking romp from the play area.

The elder chap hoisted himself up the cemented fence and started walking to and fro , spreading his arms wide as though imitating a bird. Seeing him, Mr Junior too tried to climb up the tiny fence . In fact , he was even successful , but maybe looking down , even that tiny distance frightened him . Carefully, he put his  feet down and went across the playground. There being no kids around ; all the pebbles and leaves were his . After flinging a few pebbles, he got hold of a fallen branch of a coconut tree and started dragging it across the play field. The branch made swishing sounds and he was immensely happy with the whole game. All this while, the elder sibling was busy playing the bird game. Suddenly the big sodium lamp in the middle of the park caught the younger chap’s attention and he rushed to its side. Craning his  neck up, he tried talking with it . Now there were three things (the coconut branch, pebbles and lamp) which were vying for his attention and he had difficulty choosing one of the three. After a few moments of contemplation, he decided to go for the light . He looked at his own little shadow and played with for some time . In the yellow sodium rays, some more things became visible to him … a dried flower, a yellow leaf and he started playing with them with renewed zeal.

Minutes later , as I walked back home , I realized perhaps the two kids had taught me more about Zen than anything else . As we grow older and start marching with more confident steps towards our futures, we bury our individual curiosities. We stop gaping at the light. We stop talking to the pebbles and leaves. We forget to feel the touch of soil under our feet . We stop imitating birds and their freedoms. We cage ourselves in our own self inflicted worries and start playing mind games of different sorts. Zen perhaps means walking back into your childhood this very moment and understanding the language of a child.

( This is the last post for the A to Z challenge and as I said earlier apart from writing , I have made some wonderful friends , got an opportunity to learn and un-learn many things . Hoping to stay connected with each one of you . We’ll all meet again )

Y for Yesterdays

We fought everywhere
You and I
on yesterday's dreams
tomorrow's tears


leaving wet giggling footprints
here ...there
everywhere...
on silvery whispering  sands


Today I stand alone-
a slow receding wave


rushing every moment
to that farthest corner in my solitude

where (Y)our laugh still echoes..

(C) : Sridevi Datta

XXL Always

How to spot a person wearing an ego , the size of double XL :

 

This person talks only to himself /herself even though he/she is in conversation with other person.

This person pays glowing tributes to himself / herself at frequent intervals which can be weekly, daily, hourly.

The only reason why this person’s family , company , country prospers is because he/she has taken upon his/ her frail shoulders to shoulder their responsibility

The favorite word in his/her vocabulary is I and Me.

This person is the self appointed judge of the entire human race.

This person is always the master of all trades .

(Compiled by Sridevi and Vijaya after a strenuous conversation with a person who always wears XXL ego on his sleeve .Readers are encouraged to add their Xtra bit .) 

C : Sridevi Datta 

Why I write

 

I write because the sentences in my head do not sum up to form a complete tale.

I write because I am disjointed in heart and soul.

I write because freedom intrigues me as much as mystery.

I write because I am tense challenged. (yes I always hover between the past , present and future tenses.)

I write because I can smell coffee  Kaphee from two streets afar .

I write because the sky over my head does not rain epiphanies all the time.

I write because I am still in the embryonic stages of human devolution.

I write because I forgot to count after ten .

I write because “I” to me is still the imperfect wor(l)d which resides within me all the time.

I write because within me is a friendly mirage.

I write because I can feel the weight of the morning dewdrop upon my palm.

I  write because I laugh every time I cry .

I write for the need to belong to a particular word in all its pristine beauty.

I write because I belong to the grey rainbow.

I write because darkness does not make me invisible any longer.

I write because I stand on shifting sands.

 (C) : Sridevi Datta

V is for" Vignettes Apart"

“You know M , when two old men cross each other on a street , what do they think ?”

“What? “ , I asked stealthily removing the E from his Scrabble stack.

I was thirteen at that time and was glad for this sudden introspection on the part of my grandfather, which would enable me to pocket many Scrabble tiles. My grandfather might have been sixty or sixty five or seventy as grandfathers usually are.

My grandfather had a twinkle in his eye . Taking back the E  tile from my  stack very casually, he said , “Both of them would look at each other and think yeah one day I will be like him .”

“Not fair Tatagaru”, I said pouting , “I cannot make a word without E”.

Several years have passed. My grandfather’s no more .I still cannot think of a word without E.  But that day my grandfather taught me something else. Age does not lie in the endless aches and pains that creep up within your body. Age is perhaps in the agility of mind, when you can catch your grandchild red-handed while introspecting on the deeper issues of life .

Almost two decades later , I sit in the balcony of my new home in Vizag , still scrabble challenged , still e-challenged . I think of my grandfather and the games I used to play with him. I look at the streets below. The sun had not yet risen and the some of the morning walkers are hurriedly plucking the flowers from the plants . Then I spot a pair of eyes in the just emerging light …and a pair of lanky legs climbing the branches of the parijat tree…and a pair of thin dark arms holding on to the branches of the tree .

“Wow …someone’s in a hurry to fill the puja basket with flowers” , I think .

The form moves further and further up the tree. Interested, I look on waiting for the flower predator to emerge from the branches.

Just as I finish sipping the last drops of my coffee, she jumps down.

And from two floors above , I gasp in surprise as I see a very old lady  who might be sixty or sixty five or seventy hurriedly tying the parijat  flowers in the folds of her sari and disappearing into the streets with its morning noises of hawkers and newspaper boys .

From somewhere up in the skies, my grandfather winks conspiratorially. I finally understand.

(C) : Sridevi Datta