Life and Times of a Mango tree in Chennai

A blogger friend, UmaS, of Chennai , sees very educative and beautiful things from her balcony.

Often , it is clouds, but sometimes, she looks towards the earth, and dreams of mangoes.

(both photographs by UmaS)

Drenched
in the maternal sap
rising
from a monsoon earth
and
bubbling
all across the branches
the family
celebrates
the new births
of the new,
translucent skinned
babies
in shades of light copper.
.

Mature suhasinis****
in green,
crowding around the newborns;
dewy eyes shining
as they acknowledge
the elder Gulmohur,
looking on
indulgently.

A month later,
and much acclimatized,
the young ones have learned
the ways of the world,
how to share the goodies
from the soil,
the drizzles on unseasonal rain,
as they mature
into a brilliant green
and are able
to keep the latest secret.

Yes.
The hint
and the aroma,
of some blossoms,
promising
some more sweetness
the coming summer….

****Suhasinis : green is a color associated with an auspicious thing like a marriage and women. suhasinis is a generic term for such women.

Origins of the Net.........:-)

Blogger friend Swaram , posted a photograph taken by a member of her group, while on a trip to the Araku Valley, a hill station near Vizag, in Andhra Pradesh.

While several folks shudder, and this particular spider being , of a special big local variety, seems to be fairly comfortable in his own Net, the blogger when asked, said :

"Ayyo I go looking out for spiders whenever we go hiking/ trekking I luvvv them "

This is probably what the spider had to say.....

(photo by Swaram's group)

Playing with fibres
since the beginning of time,
I weave my web,
intricate
dream networks,
to catch
dream worms
as I enjoy
the scenery,
the greenery,
making great connections,
without a sound,
watching fuzzily,
through the scenery in silk.

They tried,
they think they’ve done it,
but some folks
dreamed up a
World Wide Web,
complete with Nets
in a
different type of fibre,
and
instead of
catching the worm,
the
worm virus
caught on to them.

Too many nets,
Too many webs,
a great many
loud clicks,
and
i wonder often
as I relax
on the silk;
whoever heard
of listening to music
while weaving the Net?

Moon face therapy

I am totally impressed by the number of "young" women out photographing the moon. Earlier , in the Southeastern US and now in the Northwestern US.

My friend Sylvia lurked amidst some trees to capture this. Read and see more here.


(photo by Sylvia Kirkwood)
Dry winds
and crackling leaves
and she looks around
the empty trees,
stark in the dark....

There is a definite chill,
she feels
the roughness on her face,
brownish in patches;
and so she
will sit and pine
and grow thinner
day by day,
till
a sliver of her old self.

Cloud lotions,
and Christmas flake moisturizers,
coming up soon,
make her smile,
and touch her face again.

There will
soon be
Dancing with the Stars....


The time for Thanksgiving has come.....

Celestial damsels of the night....

A 4 am dawn blue moon, captured by my friend Ernestine from the Southeastern part of the US. Read about that journey here.

(photo by Ernestine Lawson)
A cold draught
across the clouds
and she wakes up
and appears
at the sky window
messing up
while trying
to
push back
her tousled hair
from her face,
framed
in the light
of the lamp powered by the Sun....

Leaves
stretching their veins
and shrugging off the dew;
branches shivering
in the early dawn,
she hears the far away chirping
of the birds,
takes a resigned breath,
taps a cloud
in reassurance
and carries on
to her hilly abode....

Celestial Damsels
of the Night
dont participate
in competitions
with the Sun....

You really want to know what he wants ?

Judged Winner of the "What Men want: contest at Blogadda /Dec 3, 2010

Submitted for the "What Men Want" contest at Blogadda

Extravagant lives,
Vagrant thoughts,
Blackberries,
Stock queries,
Mont Blanc pens,
limitless credit,
attitude debit.......
be they from
even Jupiter, Pluto, Mars or Venus
THEY HAVE ALL THEY WANT !!

But
Dagdu,
who emerges from
Mumbai special
Cloud Commuting
in the trains,
gets ejected out at Borivali,
and rushes to catch a bus
to the eastern part,
luckily
grabs a place
and nods off
amidst
thumps,screeches,
braking,
to dream,
of stuff he really wants .....

A Divali Bonus
so he can
spend and repair
the well
back at his village....

A decent
extra 9 yard sari
for his wife,
who washes her stuff
and dries it every night

He hopes the
childrens textbooks
dont change
with the new minister,
the older child
has preserved his
for the little one.....

They're redeveloping
his area,
and he dreams
of bringing his parents
to a pucca house;
unless the
ministers ,
of course
scam away the land....

Rumor has it that
his factory will shut;
the Union demands their share
from his VRS funds,
there goes his
dream
of a decent wedding
for his daughter....

But despite
a life resembling
the potholed
troublesome
roads
of middle class Mumbai,
he counts his blessings;

A wonderful wife
who helps making a living
preparing lunch tiffins,
An older son
who delivers them to places
before reaching his school,
and a little daughter,
who understands ,
why a new school book is
to be preferred
to a new frilled frock....

This Mars and Venus stuff
is junk.

Like his old father said,
There are
enough men,
but very few
who can be man enough

He sits down
on the uneven earth,
watching the Moon
through a patch
between
an adjoining illegal staircase
and another house.
He has whatever he wants
right here on earth,
as his wife
wipes her hand
on her pallu
and
hands him a glass
of milkless tea.

His son studies
in the dim light,
his daughter
puts the washed vessels away.

He wants
so much more,
but appreciates
what he has.

A loving family,
a job,
a tired body,
and something
those guys in
5 BHK AC flats,
salaries with 6 zeroes,
and tax problems
dont have :

a peaceful deep sleep at night....


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.

The Last Picture Show....

My friend Sylvia posts wonderful Sky views in her blog . And you get to enjoy her seasons through them.

Here's possibly something that happens twice a month. If we only noticed.....

(photo by Sylvia Kirkwood)
If
all the world's
a stage,
and all the sky
the curtain,
then,
given what
goes on
in the name
of
religion,
power,
insults,
fatwas,
defense,
attack,
and so on,
is it any wonder,
that the moon
peers
carefully,
again and again,
through
the stage curtain
before
making an effort
to appear
in the sky ?

They also serve, who......

A scene often seen as we drive across the mountains in my State. But sometimes the chaos of the gestures by the hardy God fearing types, inspires someone to click.

Very often the pictures inspire something else. Here.

(photo by Kavi Arasu)
High on the hill,
struggling through
a rocky life
they stand,
hands outstretched
praising the Gods...

A thorny
twisted
life,
unlike those
leafy ones,
that bend
in comfort
and presumed concern
for a
cooperative earth.

Pushing each other,
squeezing through
the gaps,
a moist sap
stored away
for the future,
these have nots,
are a barrier
at the edge of the hill...
keeping the
unconcerned and unaware "haves"
from slipping
down
as they
apply brakes
to lives at great speeds...

Boundaries of the Mind

Man's best friend often thinks like Man. And learns like Man. Even about flags. Like the flag of India. The Tricolor. Orange-white-green. And sometimes you see it in the grass too.

See other photos by Kavi Arasu here. .... And marvel............

(Photo by Kavi Arasu)

Barbed wire
borders
separating
the same grass
of the same earth.

The faithful one
stands
dreaming
about
cooler climes
winter races
with Alsations,
a special man
to brush his
coat
and walk him
at the army grounds....

A shake of the ears,
he looks back
and
the tricolor grass
beckons.

The barbed wire fence
encloses
not him,,
but
those
destined to live
by the guns and orders.

He turns
happily,
bounds back,
and races through the grass...

In his country
He is free.

The political ambhibian....

Sometimes humans are so depressing, even a crab with a political visage will do. They stared at each other from a distance of one foot, and the guy with the camera blinked first.
See some more nature pictures here.

(photo and bravado by Kavi Arasu)

Dodging between
Reebok sandals
and
trailing dupattas,
the multi-ped
leader
of the swampland
mafia
moves ponderously
across the
grassy
but tricky terrain.




Dangerous
killer looks,
hands
held up
in political worship,
as in,
"Friends, amphibians, countrymen,
lend me your votes....
We need
to preserve
these lands for
our children,
and save it
from the
Bisleri
plastic
onslaught...."

And he stares
at the one
with a camera,
who has come close
enough to scratch,
then smiles,
at the lady who
pulls him back,
saying,
" Let him be.
he is going his way,
and it is time you went yours,
Swiftly....:-)"

Wrapped in Serendipity

There must be something in the air of the Pacific Northwest. So many friends there enjoy creating great images. Rain, who blogs at Rainy Day thoughts , is a person who enjoys various forms of creativity like painting, photography, and writing about dreams, relationships, politics, photography, aging, country living, transitions, our senses (all 6), and spirituality. She lives on her own farm, which gives her a unique perspective and a respect for all things Natural.

This is a painting done by her, related to real people she knows. Read her post to wonder about the Serendipity ....

It inspired this below, 12,000 miles away.....

(painting/artwork/photo by Rain)


Snug
as a fit
on life's
jigsaw picture puzzle
they sit,
the little one
leaning back
nuzzling against her
sharing colors
and comfort,
as she
looks out
over the
lapping waves.

Is that her,
ten thousand moons hence,
silvery in the night ?



And the older,
silvery one
trails her fingers
through
the young flaxen gold,
smiles
at the
setting sun
and
gets lost
as she relives
her girlhood again ...

Separating the grains from the chaff....

He is actually in the wrong profession. He sees things we don't see, and captures them in his camera. Sometimes words happen. Sometimes the pictures are the words. See some more of his pictures here.

Sometimes reactions such as these.........

(Photo by Kavi Arasu)
Fields
resplendently green
on the plateau,
set way down
from the road
much traveled ,
by those trained
to separate the
dedicated grain
from
the wayward chaff.

Fresh
on a sunny noon,
he simply does his magic
lifting the 'Sup',
supported by
the sinewy arms,
and
shakes and taps
the fruit of
his year's labour,
all trained,
grown and harvested together,
as it falls
grains with grains
chaff with chaff,
unlike us,
where
so may chaffs
pretend to be grains....

Learning to lap it up.

The first though that came to mind here, on reading my friend Sylvia 's wonderful photo post, was something we learnt as young students : the earth is 70% water. Then something else came to mind.

Read on.

(photo by Sylvia Kirkwood)


The all pervading
three-fourths
of the earth,
wide across
and traveling
in giant waves;
and the
firmly set,
brown and green
unwavering,
supporter of
homes and folks.

They meet,
not
with an almighty bang,
but
with a gentle
lapping of waves,
like
one
tickling the other ,
"hello !".....

Nature
has so many lessons
for
those that meet
with
swords,
bombs,
fatwas,
threats,
and
embargoes,
and
we have no time
to listen and enjoy
the quiet,
lapping
and messaging
of the waves...

Petals and lights

Today is a new moon day in Divali. My friend Nupur has been creating Rangolis at home everyday for Divali. One such created with Marigold, and Shevanti flower petals, and possibly dark red rose petals. All glowing together in the light of some wonderful oil lamps.

An appreciation, and some thoughts. In Marathi. And then in English....

(photo and original art by Nupur Phatak )
झेंडू राव
आणि शेवंती वहिनींची गडबड ,
गडद लाल गुलाबाची
जुन्या पाकळ्या
झटकून टाकायची धावपळ,
...कुणा एका पंगतीत
ताटा भोवतालच्या रांगोळीत
बसण्याची शर्यत ....

आयुष्यात ते सगळे
कुठे कुठे पोचतात ....
चोर नेत्याच्या गळ्यात,
सोनियाच्या सिक्युरिटीच्या हातात ,
कोणा वधुवरांच्या शेजारच्या सोफ्यावर ,
मायावती च्या रुपयाच्या हरा शेजारी,
आणि
कधी कधी
गणपती बाप्पाच्या गळ्यात,
श्रीकृष्णाच्या मुरलीला गुरफटून,
सरस्वती -लक्ष्मी च्या पायाशी...

आज काहीतरी वेगळा आहे ;
स्वतःचे तुकडे तुकडे होणार आहेत,
पण
सुंदर पणत्यांच्या सोबतीने ,
एका मोठ्या फुलाच्या आकारात
दिवाळीच्या अमावास्येत
ते सर्व
सगळीकडे
प्रकाशाचा सडा पाडणार आहेत ....

Marigold Sir,
and Shevanti Maam,
bustling around,
giving
disapproving nods
to Madame Rose,
trying to
shrug off
her dark red petals,
Maybe
they are to be
the decoration around
someones plate
at a sit down dinner......

You never know
where these folks reach....
As a garland
around a
corrupt neck,
or
in the hands
of Sonia's security;
casually flung
on a sofa
next to the bride and groom
at their reception,
or even,
peeking from under the
heavy currency Garlands
adorning Mayawati....

And then,
also
adorning Ganpati Bappa,
maybe entangled
around Lord Krishna's flute,
and lying in
obeisance
at the feet
of the
Goddesses Saraswati and Lakshmi...

But
life will change today....
They will all be
torn to pieces,
and arranged together ,
to make
another huge flower,
creating
a design along with
the beautiful lamps,
all sprinkling
luck and light
eveywhere,
on this Divali new moon day....


.

दिवाळीची कलाकुसर

थोड़ी कोकणात , थोड़ी माळवयात ...... Wordless!

काही पहाटे पहाटे
सूर्य वेळेपेक्षा खूप आधी
वर येतो ,
कारण समुद्राच्या वाळूत
‘दिलवाले’ टाईप पोझ मध्ये बसून
कोणी दोघं बोटांनी रांगोळी काढत असतात ……..
आणि
काही काही संध्याकाळी
सूर्य जाताना रेंगाळतो ,
कारण
माळव्यातल्या इंदोरी भूमीवर
दुसरीच एक सुंदर रांगोळी
दिव्याच्या प्रकाशात
होत असते ……..
(तेवढ्यात ती वर बघते ,
एक दीर्घ श्वास घेते ,
आणि म्हणते ,
“वाह! , तुपाचा आणि बेसनाचा
काय छान वास येतोय न …..?”

The Fall of Life.......

Where I live, there is only a very hot summer and a drenching wild monsoon. Occasional trees covered in orange gulmohur blossoms and yellow amaltās (अमलतास) blossoms honor spring and summer. But fall colors as depicted by my friend Sylvia from Seattle, are something new for me.

An appreciation. In the approaching Fall of life....

(photo by Sylvia Kirkwood)



Shrugging off
those
light snowy covers,
sometimes
almost like blankets;

then
letting
the light breezes
massage the bare arms
into sprouting
new growth and leaves;

biting cold winds,
tempered
by a
slowly powering Sun
bursting into
spring and summer,
replete with
wild and wet
flowers and fruit
romancing the birds;

And as
Summer fades into Fall,
she comes into her own,
warm
in mustard yellow,
looking up
into a pure blue cool sky,
the leaves
enriched in gold.

They say 77 is the new 47..
And
she wraps
her confidence
a bit tighter around herself,
smiles
and says,
"It's such a wonderful life,
isn't it !"......

Celebrations

In honor of a young friend embarking on a new journey. And another, God's own child, who will skip along with her.......what a way to begin the Divali celebrations !

A young wilful tree
wild in the forest
but respectful
of the elements,
revelling
in the magic
of the seasons,
and playful
with all those
tweeting birds
and
symian swingers,
delicately ,
resolutely,
shrugs off the
monsoon water
lazy on the leaves…….

The call
of the little
shrub,
golden green
in innocence,
brave amidst
unexpected landfalls
and whirling waters
is loud and clear….

It is to be a lifetime
of
learning to grow
in fun,
in the midst of
many colors,
imbibing from the
Earthy Mother;
a toothy grin,
a sudden pout,
eyes full in anger,
and sometimes
yearning
in anticipation
of a pink frock,
tiklees,
dolls, books,
and ocean walks
holding on to a bigger hand,
amidst
the chakmak
of the bright lights .

For the Mother tree,
its a sharing
of the sap
she imbibed from the earth;
reeling
in empathy,
joy,
shining hopes,
indulging, maybe
someone
just as wild and fiery
like her,
then
bowing in gratitude
to the
One That Cares
and celebrating
the best Divali of her life !