Skip to main content

The Sounds of Sunday!! - A Word Sketch

Silences have settled on the day like dew-drops of a receding winter night.
The day stands at the cusp of weather where winter recedes and the summers descends.

Fogs have lifted and the skies are cloudless and clear. I walk through the lane, on which shadows have spread themselves beautifully. Words come to my mind:

"The patterns shadows make,

these ZIg-zagging lines like

some slithering snake;
Sneak in surreptitiously l
like some memory lost,

A memory of warmth, surviving, 
Undying winters and unyielding frost."

The bright sun rays languorously lie on the Earth, with their long legs spread under the sketchy, shifting shadows of the trees. A perfect day to reclaim the me-time, basically, catching a corner bench in the park for myself, before it is appropriated for the day by some cozy couple.

I mutter wordlessly, seeking forgiveness from the angel of Love for interrupting the just right of a young couple who detected the bench a moment later than me, and I settled down interrupting their mischievous plot to spend the  Sunday on this bench with jackets spread on their heads joined in oneness. The boy wears a gray jacket, the girl a jacket with bold blue squares on a white background. They look sweet and surprised. Do not know what surprises them. Ah, it must be age. At that age, if one is in love, everything is mystical, magical and surprising. Pity that as we grow older we lose the ability to amuse ourselves and slip in to defined patterns.  

I read, Night and Day by Virginia Woolf. Such exquisite prose, charming words. Her words
never fail to fill me with two totally contrasting emotions. A fantastical feeling of fulfilment, and an immense idea of my own inadequacy. So uplifting as a reader, so devastating as a writer. 

Birds chatter and I put my book down to write. I immerse myself in sounds- sounds we hear but seldom listen- the sounds of life. Crows cawing incessantly, and then some sweet sounding birds interrupt with a charming chuckle. Oh and that sudden sound of yearning from a distant peacock resonates through the greens, floats over the calm waters of the lake and then rises and loses its way in the air . Yes, the little birds with sweet voices sound as if those voices were smiling. An occasional airplane interrupts the solemn soliloquy of beautiful birds with their rude and metallic temper. A bike with intentionally take away silencer, interrupts the music of the morn. But it passes away, into oblivion, like human life itself, coming out of nowhere and fading into nothingness.

The birds do not mind. And the sounds continue- the birds, the sprinkler watering the grasses, routine dance of music, chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk- the sprinkler doesn’t intrude into the schemes of sound, just offers some sort of background rhythm to the whole structure of heavenly music which wraps around me.

A man runs, at a distance, at twelve in the noon. Huffing behind an age that runs away, chasing it, not to give up ever. A child's chuckle suddenly floats from some corner. Just a swift signature of humanity on the slow music of the nature, adding to the melody. The squirrel gallops, pauses and ponders. She looks at me as if I were a potential adversary. Realizing that I wasn’t, she continues jumping around, suddenly happy, a load lifted from its tiny heart.

Shadows have shifted, my bench is now under the Sun. The winds are little agitated and the leaves add to the various sounds of Sunday. It gives faith that on this day as on any other Sunday, amid cacophonous cawing of the crows, a sweet, soft occasional sound will always be there if we hear intently enough and will convert the mundane into magical.

The hues have shifted from the bluish-pink to orange. I rise from the bench, the girl in Blue-and-White jacket looks expectantly. This bench seems to be strategically located to let in the Sun and keep the prying eyes out, and is therefore coveted to young couples. I vacate the place. They get up from the ground under the tree, ready to conquer this place. The tree stares and smiles and wishes them luck. In a world of easy liaisons and fleeting loves will their love survive the shifting seasons? Who knows. But it is beautiful when it exists. The day has moved. Another day. One fine Sunday!


Popular posts from this blog

बाल विवाह - हिंदू इतिहास और सत्य

  इतिहास का लेखन उसकी विसंगतियों की अनुक्रमिका नहीं वरन उसके समाज के आम रूप से स्वीकृत मान्यताओं एवं उस समाज के जननायकों द्वारा स्थापित मानदंडों के आधार पर होना चाहिए। परंतु जब लेखनी उन हाथों में हो जिनका मंतव्य शोध नहीं एक समाज को लज्जित करना भर हो तो समस्या गहन हो जाती है। जब प्रबुद्ध लोग कलम उठाते हैं और इस उद्देश्य के साथ उठाते हैं कि अप्रासंगिक एवं सदर्भहीन तथ्यों के माध्यम से समाज की वर्ग विभाजक रेखाओं को पुष्ट कर सकें तो हमारा कर्तव्य होता है कि हम सत्य को संदर्भ दें और अपने इतिहास के भले बुरे पक्षों को निर्विकार भाव से जाँचें।   बीते सप्ताह बाल विवाह को लेकर विदेशी सभ्यता में उठे प्रश्नों को भारत की सभ्यता पर प्रक्षेपित करके और उसकी स्वीकार्यता स्थापित करने पर बड़ी चर्चा रही। इस संदर्भ में   श्री ए एल बाशम से ले कर राजा राम मोहन रॉय तक चर्चा चली। बाशम की पुस्तक द वंडर दैट वाज इंडिया - को उद्धृत कर ले कहा गया कि हिं

दो जोड़ी नन्ही आँखें

अनदेखे ख़्वाबों की दो जोड़ी नन्हीआँखें, जिन्होंने स्वप्न देखने की आयु से पूर्व दु:स्वप्न देख आँखें मूँद लीं। जो क़दम अभी चलना ही सीखे थे, लड़खड़ा कर थम गए। बचपन के घुटने पर लगी हर खरोंच, व्यस्कों के गाल पर एक तमाचा है। धर्म के आडंबरों से अछूता बाल मन जो मंदिरों और मस्जिदों को अपनी आत्मा में रखता था, धर्म की दरारों पर अपना नन्हा शव छोड़ निकल पड़ा। कहीं दूर,दग्ध शरीर के ताप से दूर, जब यह अकलुषित हृदय पहुँचा तो एक और निष्पाप दूधिया आत्मा दिखी, जिसकी पलकों के कोरों में उसकी आँखों के जैसे ही अविश्वास से सहमा हुआ अश्रु रूका था। एक दूसरे के गले लग कर दोनों बाल मन दरिया के टूटे बाँध की तरह बह निकले। घाव बाँटे, एक दूसरे के हृदय में चुभी धरती की किरचें निकाली और न देखे हुए स्वप्नों का श्राद्ध रचा। उसने थमती हिचकियों में अपना नाम बताया - ‘आसिफा’। और दुख के साथी की ठोड़ी थाम कर कहा - ‘मत रो, न्याय होगा।’ धरती की तरफ़ नन्ही गुलाबी उँगली दिखा कर कहा- “देख, भले लोग लड़ रहे है मेरे लिए, न्याय होगा। तेरे लिये भी लड़ रहे होंगे। तू मत रो” फिर बोली, “मैं पश्चिम से हूँ, तू पूरब से, पर हैं

The Great Shake in Governance- New Modi Cabinet- My Take

This week, the Narendra Modi government was expanded. However, as it turned out, it was not merely an expansion, rather complete rehash of the cabinet, with many faces, widely believed as non-performers eased out of their positions.  The expansion came with the dropping of some key names, much famed and widely seen on TV Channels, perceived to me closest to the leftist media houses. Prakash Javadekar was shunted, Ravishankar Prasad was dropped, so was Ramesh Pokhariyan Nishank. Apart from the worthies of Ministries of Information & Broadcasting, Law and IT and HRD, Dr. Harshvardhan was also dropped from health.  Before we look at the addition, it is pertinent to look at the deletions from the earlier Cabinet. Prakash Javadekar, as I&B Minister was expected to take strong stand, make statements, blast the inane propaganda in key policy initiatives that the Modi Government was taking. From Land Acquisition Bill to Demonetization to GST to Triple Talaq to CAA to Farmer's Bill-