Loneliness is but a blessing……
....a blessing in disguise……
….for without it ……
would one realize the value of friendship?
Butterflies are pretty things,
Today is Vishu, the festival of prosperity and hope, the festival that promises better tomorrows as days go by. The ‘Vishu kanni’ or the coiffured ‘Omen’ is the first thing seen in the morning as the first rays of sunlight touch the earth on the Vishu day. The Vishu kanni is arranged on a bronze platter whose glory tries to reflect that of the sun. Rice, Fresh fruits and vegetables, bunches of golden Laburnum flowers, a bronze mirror, a gold bordered piece of cloth and Collyrium, are all arranged as salutations offered to Lord Vishnu, the protector.
On the eve of Vishu, our excitement would be to procure the ‘Konna Flowers’. Konna tree (Amaltas in Hindi, ‘Indian Laburnum’ in English, ‘Cassia fistula’ in Latin) is considered to symbolize Prosperity and happiness. Years back it was easy to procure the flowers since every other house had a laburnum tree. Now my parents along with millions of other malayalis feel the pinch of the changes triggered off by ‘development-gone-wrong’.
Firstly laburnum trees are hard to find in Kerala now-a-days. Secondly even if there are a few trees left….they refuse to flower during Vishu …almost like a silent indignant protest. The science fraternity claims this phenomenon of late flowering of Cassia as a product of the recent climatic changes due to global warming.
This may be just one of the many irreversible shifts in the course of nature…many of which are not readily visible and hence conveniently left unnoticed. Yet…. year after year…. the cycle goes on…. and millions of malayalis wait in vain for the laburnum to bloom in time so that they can auspicate another new year….. another year of fresh hope and good fortune.
Yet another morning has broken.....
....the dawn of another new day....
Today I woke up unusually early...6'O clock is not a time which I usually see in my day-to- day life. May be that’s why I felt today's morning extremely beautiful....
…..the light breeze playing naughty games with my ever unkempt hair….
…...the cacophony of a million birds…..
Strangely, I felt my hostel room balcony the best place in the world.
Don’t know why…..I got reminded of a poem which mom used to recite to me when I was a kid.....
"Out of the dust of dreams
Fairies weave their garments.
Out of the purple and rose of old memories
They make rainbow wings.
No wonder we find them such marvelous things!"
Times have changed....so have I. From that naughty kid who could hardly remember the spelling of 'Two" to a post graduate student lost among hard bound volumes screaming concepts of ecological sustainability and rolls of deceptively colored butter sheets scribbled with McHargian Analysis (Phew, God save this world ! ).
Despite the number of years which have faded into the pages of oblivion...I still find myself searching for those good old days...days when ‘tasks’ meant meticulously shooing away the crows from the kitchen yard, ‘music’ meant the clamor of my Xylophone, ‘Discovery’ meant opening mom's wardrobe to fish out a necklace, ‘Best friend’ meant the milk man who cycles down twice a day, ‘Life's greatest challenge’ meant sneaking on to the terrace evading the watchful eyes around….
Don’t know why am I on a nostalgic drive today?
May be somewhere behind those verdant boughs, a fairy must be weaving and singing away to glory
'Out of the purple and rose of old memories…..”