Sunday, March 01, 2009

Aindri's Green Period















When my grandmother died
that afternoon, there was not
much noise made about it.
She was old, too old- and her
presence seemed awkward in
our daily routine of things to
do to embrace life.










Her absence filled her bed
with water. The windows
were left shut and below her
portrait the water swirled
with little bright specks
of light like you would find
in the deep of an ocean.









One day, while visiting her
silent room, I noticed that the
water had given birth to plants
that spoke in deep guttural
sounds. Being in the room felt
like I were in a water tank
trying to hear the world outside.
I stepped in. My feet looked big
and clean. My grandmother
smiled.







I lay on the bed like she had
once and raised my hands out
of the water. The plants
whispered to each other while
I explored their world. The
water had the sweet scent of
her hair. It was jasmine and
sandalwood and bright blue.








A catfish swam in circles
around me. I could hear
tinsel chiming through the
water. Sometimes the
plants spoke, most probably
of me-but they let me be.











I got up for a breath of air.
The drone of conversation
stopped and they were
looking at me. They knew who
I was, but they had not seen me
before. I, for my part, found it
difficult placing them
anywhere in my conditioned
mind.
They were living in a figment
of my imagination but they
breathed the same air as me.






When I touched one of them,
it branched out into a tree
of faces. I recognized my
grandmother as one of them.
It seemed like a family tree of
people so long forgotten that it
would be futile to start anywhere.
There was no hierarchy, just
relations popping up and
blooming into faces.







I plucked one of the squealing
faces and it spilled into a man
with a well ironed hair and
beard.
"Look at what you've done,
child!" he bellowed in a
baritone, "you have removed
me from my family! My first
wife wants me back!"
"Oh! I'm sorry" I said hastily,
from my own instinct of
apologizing.
"I did not mean to, sir, and
frankly, I am not aware of
what I need to do around
here!"

5 comments:

SooSixty said...

this is so beautiful.

still water said...

nice :)

Kalyani Ganapathy said...

This is lovely. Are you getting this published? I would definitely buy it!

Manasi Parikh said...

you dont know me, i'm a junior to you by many years at nid. i've been reading your blog since a long time now, and i've always thought your work is beautiful...and this post is no exception! i wish you'd post more often though;

:)

Rakesh Vanamali said...

You have a very vivid perspective of life and art! I wish you'd update more often! This is a great place to visit!