Climbing trees

I remember,when I was young, the trees looked so big and I always wished to climb the larger trees. Tarzan was a role model for me then and I always fantasised about swinging from the branches and roots of trees.

There were a lot of trees then around the place we lived and we also had many trees in our compound . As children we played and climbed on some smaller mango guava and jackfruit trees at home but were not allowed on the bigger trees. My uncles could climb trees and during the season of blueberries (jaamun) they used to take me along with them on the bicycle to collect the fruit. They would climb up the tree and shake the branches and I would pick up and collect the jaamuns fallen on the ground in the bag. I was always in awe of their ability to climb the trees . 

Also when I went to my mother's village during summer or winter holidays, I found the children there climbing trees with such dexterity that I envied them for this. I particularly liked the ritual of getting the Tad (tal) fruit plucked, tamarind collected and the setting of the pot on the date palm to collect the juice. In the eyes of  the small boy that I was, these were the ultimate exciting things to do. Sometimes one of the farm hands would perch me up on the nearest branch of the big mango tree and I would sit there feeling so thrilled with life.

All these are now just faded memories. It's difficult to believe that I had spent those days. Even to me they seem to be stories of my past birth,how can I blame others. Nobody can relate to these stories in this era of TV shows of extreme adventure sports and daring stunts. Children now do not play those hide and seek games involving bringing leaves and flowers of plants and trees and climbing up trees or terraces. That is considered too risky and off course it is. But how simple it really looked then. And we seemed to have endless reservoir of energy to play those games. Now when I look down from highrise existence,I discover that the trees look smaller.

But I still cannot climb them .

Fly, my birdie , fly away,

if you really want to. 

I can not stop you 

nor want to cage you. 

You came to me 

from the heavens above

and gave me some moments of joy.

With all those fond memories

of togetherness, I now set you free.

If you return again 

to wake me up on a fine morning , 

be my guest and call me .

I will wait for you.

Silence

The power of silence is unique really; it persuades, it can also negate. Lost in the void of speechlessness are the strands of emotion. To understand silence is to decipher an unknown language, very ancient. What passes of between two souls in silence is like something electric which transforms people at the two ends like charged poles. There may be attraction or repulsion, depending on the unsaid thoughts which pass through the minds of the two persons.

Silent feelings are fascinating if you can understand them. Sometimes a thousand words will not describe the story which a silent look can author in the space of a moment. All of a sudden there is the indication, the signal which was being awaited for days and hours. A veil covering the restlessness within just like the calm before the storm.

Like anyone or rather everyone, I have witnessed silence in its many facets. Sometimes with a smile on my face, sometimes with fear and trepidation eating away my innards or with the resigned acceptance of the tragedy faced. Whatever it was, I think silence defines our existence as it punctuates the sound and cacophony of the world around us .Because ultimately its not the words that are spoken by us or about us that matters but the depth of the silence which we leave behind that matters .