Friday, November 10, 2006

Tip Toeing on Memories and ...dreams...

It was the most beautiful sunset.
I could not make the colours out, since my sense of colours is bad.
But thankfully i can appreciate art...the natural one that is more comprehensible than when the human mind streaks the canvas with colours that blend, stand apart or just make sense with one another.

I was with an artist. The artist just listened to me describe the sunset. I began with blue... ok I don't know the next colour, nor the next, nor the next...aha! and that is orange..isshh - red. That's it, that is the exact colour. Don't you think so? Of course it didn't strike me that the artist might know the colour and it might be at the end of the artist's lips, but the artist didn't say a word. The artist just smiled.

***

We met some people. They were very rural. I know that one can't be 'very rural' when you live one hour from the city and have an entire township developing at the base of the hill that you live on. But I would say that they were 'very rural' as compared to how we live - here in the city.

They spoke about their land. About how it was stolen off them. They were given other land. But 'their own land' had been taken away. So what if it was done legally?

I realised how proud a man can be of his land. They told us about their forests, which have no water. "You'll find the most fierce of animals and the rarest of trees in our jungle, but no water," he said. There was no regret in his voice. Just pride. The way he declared "My soil..." or referred to the land as "Our land..."

I want my children to learn the truth of loving your land. I could never learn it, but I can understand its reflection in the eyes of those who live their land. But probably these people won't live long enough for my children to even be able to notice the feeling, let alone understand it.

It is the prettiest sight when you see little feet splash in the water splattered around the well.
When tiny fingers give strength to the sapling sown into the soil by his dad.
When the little ones scramble up the trees or just decide to aim at the raw mangoes high up among the branches.

I HOPE THIS DOESN'T REMAIN A DREAM 'coz then a part of me will always remain a dream

4 comments:

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. said...

The K is back: )

TS said...

You make me happy, and sad.

Viren said...

Hmm... I echo ts's emotions. Nice to see a dreamer in a world of idealists.