Wednesday 21 November 2018

Mosses on the Stone

When I wake up early morning, and stand at my balcony with a glass of apple shake, sipping in the fluid and watching the morning sky and the feeling the rise of the mighty Sun. The winds blow hard these days and the gushing wind brushes against my face. I wonder what if I didn't want be a millennial girl, who makes her won morning shake, cooks her own meals, drives to work and packs a bunch of fries while returning back home, what if i wanted to be a swan, a white large swan in the wild grass and marshlands or a country side lass who grows spinach in the winter mornings and coriander leaves and hums her favorite hymns that her grand mother taught her since her childhood.

 I wanted to be a village lass who lived by the hills and the vegetable fields. The winters be so cold and the coriander leaves spread the fragrance of the winters. The cows and the buffaloes mooed at the winter morning tunes. I would love to dip in the waterfall in the forest, and the wet cotton towel around my hair would drip the waters of the mountains. I imagine walking by the forest roads, carrying an earthen pot of cold water back home. On the way, I meet trees filled with blossom, yellow flowers that smell like heaven. I collect them and wear on my hair, they smell days and nights like the starts twinkle in the dark sky. I cook meals while feeding the herd of sheep that graze at the nearby meadows. The big banyan tree that shades my courtyard, plays hide and seek with the sun rays, and the white flakes of clouds.

I watch the sunset and the scarlet sun that slumbers in the horizon, to give way to starry nights. I light the evening lamp, and sit beside the flowing river. Hear the sounds of lapping waters and the rustling sounds of wild grass. I float the lamp to the river, wishing it would reach the heaven, for those who rest in peace there. The beauty of stars and the dark sky would steal my heart away.

As i sleep to the closure of the day, I sleep with no stress. I smell the haystack and sleep to the spirits of life and glory.

I chose not be the woman who walks collecting the yellow fragrant flowers, but the one who sips in her artificial happiness from mornings to nights and she is thus trapped in her own desires, greed and lust. How she wishes she could break away the glass of apple shake and dive into the cold waters of the waterfall inside the green forest, and smear the peal  droplets, till she quenches her thirst of attaining bliss and solitude.


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