Some summers, in the late evenings, I stand giving my plants those additional sprinkles of water as a form of respite from the warmth the ground had been affected by all day. I never know how some of them will grow, and I do not know for how long they remain as a part of this life I have created for myself in this world.
I look at the road beyond the boundaries of my little garden and I see a world mostly consumed in what their smartphones have to offer. Although I do believe the reality outside has much more to offer, it offers life.
At the bend of the road stand people, still in their office attire, with sticks which emit smoke of a toxic nature and minds juggling over where life is going and whether the effort is going towards any actual betterment. Our adventure to find the true meaning of our living, will eventually end to nothing because what it means is what it is and whether it will mean more, only we can decide.
A woman gets down the office cab smiling at her colleagues and as the cab leaves the expression changes into the one expressing the toil. To the eyes of the observant, the smile we train ourselves to carry no matter what, always carry the question of ‘what pain might it be hiding?’.
An old man is coming by to feed the street dogs and dogs know him well. They stand together looking at his direction. They know he is coming and they know what he brings. As long as we are living, nothing ever truly ends, there is always another part of life welcoming us when the other part ends.
I often see that young boy across the road, he probably sneaks out with his father’s scooter when nobody is at home. He comes to this side to meet this girl, who also comes by scooter. The effort they take to meet resonates a bond more than friends. As life proceeds, these efforts die and one fine day we realise we have become different from that person who liked to find joy in doing such little things.
A sudden strong wind brings darkened clouds along with them. The clouds, they spread out, pushing the light away, but not completely. Will they result in rain? The clouds are still moving. Moving clouds and people seldom stay long enough to expect any form of meaning from their presence.
I was done with my work and returned home. If it does rain, I may have some extra time in my schedule for the next two days, but what will I do with that extra time? Maybe more of something that I have to do or something else for which this time will suffice.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 