Churning the Life Mill....

Blogger friend Aativas finds meanings in so many things we take for granted. Like the roadside sugarcane juice seller, on a hot September day in Hyderabad , in the Southern State of Andhra Pradesh, ready to squeeze out fresh sugarcane juice for you....

While one enjoys the juice, sometimes with a tinge of lemon and ginger,  nothing is wasted. The crushed fibrous matter that results after the juice is extracted from the sugarcane stalks, is great raw material for paper, building materials and biofuels.

Wish we could recycle our experiences in life , this way ......

(photograph by Aativas)

Experiences in life
are like sugarcane;
some straight,
sometimes in pieces,
some slightly crooked,
and all stacked together
in the mind.

You choose
some,
and push them through
the mind mill,
churning your thoughts.

Some pleasing sweet results
shared in a glass
with friends,
and
some
thrown away,
presumed useless,
but possibly of use
somewhere
in making learning bricks,
tough with fibre.

If we only learn to churn.....

A return to where you came from.....

My blogger friend Harekrishnaji, is a very versatile photographer; in a single day, he posts photographs, of deep mountain gorges, green valleys, dream houses, buffet displays of breads in fancy eating places, and just in case you think he has finished, he suddenly comes up with this dedication to a dragonfly at its moment of Death, in a creek, somewhere in his travels.

The picture says a lot. I learnt a lot about the life of a dragonfly .

(photo by Harekrishnaji)
A dream life
in the water,
as a dragonfly nymph,
hatched
from ova
flush with the stem
of a blooming aquatic plant.

A teenage
spent
misleading the fish
in style,
sometimes,
even fighting
amongst themselves,
winner takes all,
carnivorously
consuming assorted
unaware
timid folks
in the water.

One day,
the rock edge beckons,
and as she clutches
on to its face,
her wings unfold
in the glinting sun,
powered to fly.

A wild buzzing life,
tangling troubles,
swooping
around gardens,
a graceful
span of the wings,
a sniff here,
a look there,
a tentative touch.
a time to mate
and
a time to procreate.

A short sunny life,
and
the cold monsoon air
and stiff wings,
herald
a time to go.

Water of your birth;
you return
to the water of Death.