Aahaa Chennai

A sunny morning and also that kind of morning, when 'Nature' wishes to present... a showpiece from its bag of treasures. The mind, jostling with many thoughts, calms down, as I stop to view... The many many gentle ripples criss crossing the top of the shimmery lake are whispering... Come hither... Enjoy the sight of etched water colour paintings, I am proudly displaying today - of the carefully tended trees and  dense swaying foliage, preserved in wet canvas, seemingly upside down. The 'at times hazy' paintings are relishing the soft massage offered by the 'now small, now big' ripples that dance over them, the curving patterns and movements, covering large swathes of water, their synchronised movement leaving one awestruck. The effect  is enhanced by those shadowy n' graceful, dark, semi-circular patches, gracing the neat bunds, which are echoing with joyous sounding splashes, with the ever busy sun, marking stencils of...

The wind is ready. So are we, shout the participants of a colourful orchestra aiming to make a mark in the annual garden concert. The leader has arrived. The members... swing to a merry tune and seem ready to step up their act.

A drop of water... looking to be cherished. Just supposing, I were the last drop of water  on the Earth, would you give me to... a parched (human) mouth or a drooping plant or the 'not seen this for many days' tree or the stray n' tired looking cow, cat or dog, the bird flying far in search of water, the elephant bent upon destroying everything in its path seeking water, or the frail patient in a hospital where water is in high demand or a crowded school where the taps are running dry. Oh no! The wind has decided it should go back to the Earth, to the soil, until we care better for water and its sources.

In a dilemma... caused by the wind, trying to toss me up. The soil particles are flying, the leaves are shaking, the wind is racing round and round. Searching for a spot to shelter. Not beneath the friendly Tulsi plant now bent to one side, Nor behind  the  chikoo tree raining its ball like stones nay fruits or inside a fallen mud pot with its once erect Hibiscus plant, nor those crazily swinging  branches. Not fond of giving up and with a bit of luck, I've manged to find a safe corner, which I temporarily share with an active squirrel family, where... the sun sneaks in now and then, draws a leafy pattern, then shifts to a striated pattern, then plays a game of a pinning  a halo around my head or a warm wrapping around my toes, changing it to a  wide golden blanket gently straddling the nook, upon which, I enjoy resting on. Wander a bit and you can see me with my thinking cap on, gazing soulfully, shaking my head, now and...

The sky decided to don its long hidden, dark cloak and the wind woke up, feeling excited. The news going around was that... today's the day, when the jubilant power of the wind would be on display. Showing boundless enthusiasm, the wind moved across the tops of the silent, statue like trees, the dainty shrubs, the glowing ornamentals, the gentle flowering plants, gathered all its reserves of energy, mobilised extra speed, let loose its repertoire of sounds, woke up its chorus singers starting with... the gentle breeze mixed with a balmy one, moving onto the... the dust-lifting, gusty winds to the cresendo artists - the terrifying cyclone wind, at times the howling banshee, alternating with the  synchronised drumming of thunder, the flashy show of lightning high up in the heavens, letting loose a tirade, a planned assault, while rushing past/making circles from one end to the other, enjoying the creaking n' eer...

Something innovative was needed. The robe was designed by the most creative mind ever known. The patches of red, pink, yellow, black and brown, uniquely dispersed, made the pattern stand out. and the end result saw many ... rounded eyeballs and eager footfalls. Tbe 'oohs' and 'aahs' kept flowing. Nature ensnares all into a web of secrets.

The inevitable morning sounds... the buzz from the alarm with an accompanying groan, the intermittent  whistle from the pressure cooker, the noisy cawing of the crows, the honking heard from the highway, the whirring sound of  two wheelers, the familiar call of the milkman doing his rounds, the soft rustling of the leaves wishing to be heard, the crunching noise of veggies being chopped, the sounds of water flowing from the tap, but through the window, I spot someone making a particular brand of soft music, that makes me wish for more... The flutter of brightly coloured wings perched upon green bedding... has me spellbound.