‘In those days, the only laxative we had was castor oil, which made me want to throw up. There was nothing but quinine pills for the treatment of malaria. As a child, I could not swallow pills whole. Once, before a visit to Dhaka, I was obliged to chew some quinine pills. Even after all these years, I can feel its horrible bitter taste lingering in my mouth. The arrival of capsules in our lives has made us forget how awful the taste of medicines can be.’
Awful medicines have made us dependent on them, weakening our inner strength and making us dull. We choose this and that medicine instead of trying to improve our unhealthy routine. Look at the table beside your bed, the refrigerator and the cupboard and think about it.
‘There was something else to help me pass the time. It was an amazing contraption called a stereoscope. Many families possessed one in those days but now this Victorian invention cannot be seen anywhere.’
‘My mother and I had gone to attend Poush Mela, a festival held annually in Shantiniketan every December. I had bought a new autograph book, with a view to having its first page signed by Tagore. I went to Uttarayan one morning. Tagore took my autograph book, but said, ‘Leave it with me. You can collect it tomorrow.
We returned the next day. He was sitting at his desk, which was piled high with letters, various pieces of paper, books and notebooks. He began looking for my little purple autograph book as soon as he saw me. It took him nearly three minutes to find it. Then he handed it to me, looked at my mother and said, ‘He will understand the meaning of these words only when he’s older.’ What he had written was a short poem, which is known to most people today:
It took me many days, it took me many miles;
I spent a great fortune, I travelled far and wide,
To look at all the mountains,
And all the oceans, too.
Yet, I did not see, two steps away from home,
Lying on a single stalk of rice:
A single drop of dew.’
(Excerpts from Satyajit Ray, Childhood Days – A Memoir)
Vincent Van Gogh, Field with Poppies, 1889 On the way to Scarborough Fair… [Source – Wikipedia]
*
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
The melody flows like a stream of water breaking the dryness of the earth, silently and smoothly.
Suddenly you are in a colourful and sweet world. And you listen for the first time to the rhythmic world and you realise that life is not heavy but it is light as a feather. The feather dances.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
By now you are humming and hoeing and weeding. This is what you want to do in life, with lots of time to sit under a tree, half sleepy, looking at the clouds you smile.
This is what you wish for, once you reach the Scarborough Fair.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
*
Vincent Van Gogh, Poppies and Butterflies, 1889 At the Scarborough Fair! [Source – Wikipedia]
*
And now you paint… after seeing so many colours you begin playing. Red hands, orange hands, yellow hands, green hands, blue hands, indigo hands, violet hands – you have given birth to a rainbow.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Remembering that good old vision of the future and a memory of the past, all you actually need is a smile in the present.
While walking I realised that the Earth is walking and so is the cosmos, this jamming made me happy. The sweetness and the warmth and the lightness of this real and tangible feeling took me to the Scarborough Fair.
All I can say now is that I am swaying with the wind and smiling brightly. There is a ribbon, long and beautiful and silky, it is also swaying with the wind and smiling brightly.
You’ll find it too when you go to the Scarborough Fair.
*
Vincent Van Gogh, Poppy Field 1890 Swaying at the Scarborough Fair along with the poppies. [Source – Wikipedia]
Listen to the blissful track – Scarborough Fairby Simon & Garfunkel– that inspired the blogger to write this post.
Me: Of course you should, how many times will you think about it?
Or…maybe you should reveal the truth to Neena first.
Me: But if Neena knows the truth then things will not be the same…what if she calls Vikram?
Me: She is not talking to Vikram, she is not ready to hear a word about him, then why will she call him?
Me: But what if she calls just to shout at him?
Me: First, she will not call him and even if she does, no one will receive the phone because by then you would have killed Vikram, she’ll get more furious and that will be good for us.
Me: Yeah! Right! But then….
Me: But what? Don’t think so much…just go ahead with this plan and we’ll see how things will turn out.
Me: Because Vikram and Neena are not talking and they are lovers and I’ll kill Vikram…doesn’t it sound obvious.
Me: Then kill Neena…or both of them…it is so irritating…it has been like hours and you haven’t written a word on the paper…you are just thinking…bugger off!
Me: Hah! You can’t talk to me like this.
Me: Shut up! I can!
Me: Don’t be so grumpy? You know what, Vikram and Neena are lovers they should not be separated but I think Sanjay….
Me: Great…change it…from thriller in the beginning to a love story in the middle and total nonsense by the end.
Me: What!! Oh! Please! (Stretches back on the chair and sees something on the wooden ceiling) Hey! I have wondered so many times about this shape on the ceiling…you know it looks like a bird…I mean the shape is like that of a bird…like a woodpecker in fact…it so fascinating…I mean why is it here…I wonder if a family of woodpecker lived on this tree which was cut down and…hey I can write something about it…I mean it will be something different and I’ll start right from the shape in the ceiling…there will be a touch of the metaphysical in my story and….
Me: Oh really? But do you know how you’ll end it? Let me tell you…It will end with you taking a nap and later losing all your interest in the metaphysical or the bird or the thriller.
Me: Hah! But you are right here…I will take a power nap…come on…my creative mind needs a break…it deserves some rest. Ha ha ha ha!
The green grassland is calling me to come and run freely. As soon as I keep my feet on the green grassland, it says I’ll be liberated. And then I will also be able to fly.
I will run and I’ll not get tired and the surroundings will never change and nothing will end. The wind will be sweet and I’ll feel dizzy. Even if I fall, I’ll smile.
Then lying on the green grassland I’ll look at the sky, it will be blue in parts and green where the prairie will canopy me.
I’ll lie there and smile and feel warm and good and like the sunshine, I’ll shine. The green grassland says so.
*
Also, read what did the Green Lake said to Meredith here.
I believe in the waves. Everything in the universe is in the form of waves. The connection never breaks. Reverberation happens. Do you also feel it? It is amazing, but most of the times beyond our understanding, often leaving us frustrated.
Like when something is in front of us, we know that it is but we can’t find it.
I saw something that caught my attention, I saw some creepers climbing high and meeting the trees’ branches. The light green coloured creepers united with the brown coloured branches and the contrast between these colours and the dark green coloured tree-leaves looked so perfect, as if the scene was painted.
I don’t know if the union was meant to be or not. It was just wonderful, the creepers slowly crept on to the big trees; first the trunk and then the branches and then making a green velvety blanket with the leaves, like a slow wave.
The clouds move beautifully you know. They dance. They don’t stay at one place. We should also learn it. I mean we should keep in mind the fact that nothing is permanent, everything shifts from being to non-being. The clouds allow the sun rays to pass through it, only sometimes the sun rays decide to stay back and be with the clouds. The clouds change in colour when they are about to rain.
What a grand way to leave, to change into droplets and become a seed and come alive and then to meet the sun rays once again.
When a dancer performs and a singer sings and a musician plays and a painter paints and an architect builds, and a scientist thinks and a mother smiles – it is in a wave form. Like the velvety green wave we see in the forest, when the creepers meet the trees.
Endless footprints following footprints/
When suddenly a few of them rise/
To bloom like a flower.
Greetings!
A storyteller, following the ancient tradition of cave chroniclers, standing in vrikshasana (the tree pose) on a hill top (it is sunny, but windy), breathing in and out stories (relishing it all, but at times overwhelmed), declares animatedly that she will continue to – tell stories, share rare story gems, and connect with the pacy universe while also keeping the website ad-free.
Big thanks to my readers. Stay tuned!
Also, a humble request to the new subscribers to check the spam folder after subscribing. Silly (but necessary) confirmation emails often land there instead of the bright inboxes. Merci!
Ya-hoy!
Chiming Stories (formerly Home Chimes)
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Gabbeh, the 1996 film, is a simple tale of a gipsy girl, her clan and the way their life goes on. Unfolding beautifully just like an artist painting a canvas, Gabbeh quietly touches the grand questions.
Ranked as one of the greatest British films of all time, The Lavender Hill Mob confides in the audience, letting them see, feel, laugh and think without tickling persuasively with a joke here and a punch-line there.
Godard… Breathless and Alive
A Tribute to Jean-Luc Godard, the Film Philologist who Reinvented Cinema.
Yes fly! For walking on the second track is dull and usual, but dreaming high, high, high requires tools. Tools like the right pair of shoes, a chirpy, gritty soul that eats butter-jam dreams, a soul that drinks milky-milky creams.
Silver cascade shimmering the night sky, music to the waves and surreal beauty to the eyes, the Moon loves the art of discipline.
It may be difficult to believe for the Moon’s splendour defies time, it stupefies the clock, it follows the path of a dreamer, but how could this be possible if the Moon knew not discipline?
In this moment, I am a little bit of this and a little bit of that, I am complete and incomplete, I am pleased and uncertain, I wish for nothing and I know I have to wait.
Because the distance covered reminds me of the hurdles I have crossed and the ones I could not, it reminds me of a throbbing past and a dreamy future and it reminds me of how much time is left.
Meredith and the Green Lake
Illimitable Splendour
A joy so complete without any rise or fall, so free without any time corners, so real without true being false, false being true.
