Life is not a journey only for humans with its landmarks, milestones, goals, ups and downs. Doesn’t all life go through transitions? Why do we presume we are exceptional?
These questions and more were prompted by the goings-on outside a flat that has been shut for years. Two of its balconies in the building opposite, face mine. Between them the window pane of the bathroom has broken, leaving it open. Pigeons fly in and out, nest in it, nestlings fly out and the older ones die inside. Wonder how many generations of pigeon life have transited through it?
Did some bird drop a seed into a crack in the balcony? Or was it blown in by the wind? Did it travel very far? I have seen it grow from a hardly visible shoot into a sturdy plant with broad leaves. It is a peepul* or bodhi tree. Stealthily inching outward and upward its goal seems be the cloud flecked blue. Or the plant’s destination could be its parent tree. But to find it and be reunited with it may just remain a distant dream. Unfulfilled like many of ours. Will human apathy become a boon for it and a curse for the balcony? Does it shudder at the thought that someday acid will be poured into its roots and its journey will come to a terrible end?
There are trees and plants all around but it faces the majestic ‘Christmas tree’ that rises above the rest and lends the garden a grand aura. Right now that is the only one directly visible to the new shoot which seems intuitively attracted to its stately presence. The peepul, hero of this story is not big enough for birds to nest in it. An occasional sunbird sits on it daintily, surveys its surroundings and flies off. At times a bulbul swings on its branch as if testing its strength.
Looking up I speculate about the passage of the clouds. The distance they must have travelled, all that they might have had to go through to reach here. Where will they go from here? Will they fill up or remain dry and disappear?
As all these questions arise I remember a micro verse I had written long back. It was inspired by the pink lilies that bloom on my balcony during the rains -
raw bulb
to green shoots
to a flowering plant
how taxing
is the journey
No other living beings brood over these questions. They come and go, new ones take their place and life goes on in the narrative of an eternal journey. The travellers change but the passage continues. It is the voyage of LIFE; its desire to propagate itself. We are all actors in the ceaseless drama which folds and unfolds in myriads of ways and characters.
Why have we become a culture of anxiety, paying a high penalty? Can we not live in the here and now making it the vital material of our happiness?
*ficus religiosa
Bio
Shernaz Wadia (Pune, India), reading and writing poems is one of the means to embark on an inward journey. She hopes her words will bring peace, hope and light into dark corners.
Her poems have been published in many Indian and international e-journals and anthologies. She has published her own book of poems "Whispers of the Soul" and two volumes of "Tapestry Poetry - A Fusion of Two Minds". It is an innovative form of collaborative poetry writing that she developed and co-authored together with her poetry partner Avril Meallem from Israel.
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