One Blazing Summer Afternoon

  I remember one glorious summer afternoon when I went for a walk in the locality with my brother since home was being sprayed with mosquito medicine as a prevention measure for the epidemic that gripped the city. What I had expected and what I encountered are two images too surprising in my fading memory…

On the Trees of this City

  The barren glory of this city’s trees have become both an eerily pleasurable sight against the diffusing skies as summer prepares to take over, as well as an alarming reminder of the deteriorating state of its collective health, were we to think of the city as living and breathing entity in biological terms. For…

Won’t You Tell Me?

Oh silver Moon, do you know? Tell me, how long ago was it that you found out Without the sun you couldn’t paint the black nights silver that your light could never burn out Since it wasn’t yours to keep? Tell me, do you remember? the days our planet eclipsed your ivory, cratered shadow Do…

Unravelling the Mystery of People

From an entry dated December 17, 2015: It is surprising how naturally a person can thrive, unfold themselves progressively, a single layer of beauty at a time, like the blossoming of a bud to the stimulus of sunlight, peeping through the cracks of the concrete structure that asphyxiated their natural self. That is exactly what…

A Conversation with the Night

From January 29,2016 With shifting skies there is a twinge of longing In the crisp atmosphere Of the still night’s air In the blackened woods stand Giant trees, countless on the land their wooden bones and bony fingers The memory of one missing, lingers And though the mountain’s attention The extroverted clouds have caught quick…

Night’s Cyan Theater

“This world was realized in the cyanotypes, or blue photographs, of the nineteenth century—cyan means blue, though I always thought the term referred to the cyanide with which the prints were made. In the cyanotypes you arrive in this world where darkness and light are blue and white, where bridges and people and apples are blue as lakes,…

The Elusiveness of Time

  “Being still, and doing nothing are two very different things.” For an isolated self-sustaining, tiny biological environment under observation, if one could somehow contract the span of time it would take a young bud to unfurl itself into a radiant leaf in said system, the aesthetic pleasure derived from that observation would be equivalent…

Remembering

Homo bulla: a Latin metaphor translating “man as a beautiful but exquisitely delicate and transient bubble”. He bought a new radio in place Of his grandfather’s ancient one And sometimes, when it’s quiet He can hear its lingering echo:              Another day passes              Confusion…

Silence and Solitude

I have been transfixed by the notion of solitude. Of the magic that unfolds when we pause, near a little creek, and listen: listen to the stillness, the silence that envelops the landscape with its gentle, caressing touch as it, slowly, one by one, lays the most lightest hand on every branch and leaf, on…