Filling and refilling

Vacant bottles placed in racks travel in a truck. They were cleared off from the shop-keepers who sell drinks. On every jolt over the uneven road they tinkle. Like celebrating the meeting of one with another. Then a rare music is heard. The bottles sing of the tune of vacuum.

When it nears a school building, the school bell rings.
It informs the end of the day's session. Within few seconds the chorus giggles of children

after the closing bell is heard, you can listen. It resembles
the music of the vacant bottles. Peals and peals of liberated joy. Might be the bottles and the children were scheduled to undergo enforced conditioning. .From vacancy to enforced conditioning and conditioning to vacancy, the routine runs. It will be running on; making the shift of intervals delightful. One is necessary for the another.

Shapes and Serving

Potter rotates the potter's wheel. It starts rolling very leisurely. He needs more speed. He gives a push through one arm by his small stick. The wheel gains speed slowly. The lump of clay put upon the axis went restless. It was the beginning of a journey for the clay. What form or shape should it take? Perhaps that would be its concern if the clay is able to ponder. But now leave. The potter's hands handles properly help to get its form. The clay swells up to become a pot at first. I watch it with a little surprise. The potter's efficient nails and palms made it grow higher. And he proves himself an artist. It ended as a cone-shaped water jug. So lovely was its shape. I thought of the beginning. A lump of clay. Now a piece of art. The beginning was wonderful. And where it has gone now? Got buried along with the growth. Beginnings and Endings. Shaping and Growing. Nice. Both.

The Child within

Don't you love walking on a beach when a receding wave splashes some foam bubbles over your feet? I love it. The walking. The bubbles. And the dissent of the returning wave. Foams, the left-over, begin breaking their mysteries over my feet. It is an embrace of delicacy. The flowering of spilled water with its chilly spell. A delight thrills me. I wanted to laugh heartily for the feel I have over my feet. But I have grown old, not to laugh aloud for any such trivial thrills. Suppressing the feeling, I arrested it in my sealed lips. I heard a joyous voice. I lift edmy eyes. A child came running opposite me laughs mirthful at the feel of the foams covering its feet. It looked at me to share its joy .And I responded offering back a smile.

The child awarded me a brief laughter in rejoinder. This time it went into me. The receiver within me received it. I understood the child called for the child within me. The child understood the child within me; it was an assurance of a pact between both of us to remain as child for some moments.

Jungle and birds

The jungle has lot of trees .Birds flew down time after time to make their nest and to rest upon them. They keep on spilling seeds from the eaten spills and by excretions. They are not aware that they are helping vegetation indirectly. The let out seeds choose their own spaces to get instilled.. And they grow. Millennium after millennium, this occurrence continues. Then after some time birds and the trees vanish. Many get killed or extinct to give space to others. Time erases them. But it could not break the system. Newer birds come to spill newer seeds sitting on the newly grown trees. They don't know they are shaping a future unknowingly. Spaces on the earth are old but very concerned. They encourage a new life. They let birds to fly and spill seeds wherever they wish.

And the connection between the jungle and birds is eternal.

Eggable wisdom

A hen laid an egg. A shape of marvel it was. I thought of many kinds of eggs laid by many beings. Each one I saw was a marvel. They were indifferent colours and shapes. They depict the talent of an invisible architect within the wombs of various beings. It led me to be aware of two things. First I cannot lay an egg and or make an egg with such a cutely finish and form. Even if I could, I cannot insert a living being into any egg. An egg is an entity with its own promises and boundaries. Might be this piece of wisdom m I gain from a recently laid egg would look like funnily naive. Every egg informs me my limitations and incapacities. I become happy to be limited.

Shadows

One day I went for walking alone towards a hill to meet the rising sun, coming alone so early to meet companions beneath. But there were none found around except me. No men. No women. No animal. No bird even. So I was scared. I met with fear. Fear for being lonely. Then sun came up with all its loneliness peeping through the windows of clouds, in red and orange colours. A magnificence to look at. I though of my loneliness and the sun's loneliness. As I tilted my head I found some change behind. My shadow. It fell behind me. It was not there some time before. I thanked the Sun for sending me a companion. My shadow. The fear which had been there some time before had gone. I understood. Fear is a shadow. I left the fear to lie there for sometime. Then the fear lost its strength as the shadow lost its length.

Returning

Long back I have chosen this title and tried to blog for a while. I left for so many reasons. Now the time is changed. The grit has returned. Hence I continue blogging in this new title.

It was a very quite evening on the hill top. The hill was at the path way to the range of mountains; and of considerable height .I witnessed the rain clouds which were passing beneath the top. Wind passing through the top was forceful. It disheveled my dress. I saw birds flying to their nests. I wanted to say a 'hallo' to them. I said. My hallo did not make them to stop and look at me. But my voice brought echoes. It was not my voice. Only echoes. No echoes belong to me. Nor to anyone else. We make sounds instinctively. Not to listen after any echo. We can learn this little lesson from the rain clouds; from the wind passing through the mountain tops .From the chatter of the birds in their hurry to reach their nests before the rain. If any echo intervenes, let us become unconcerned. As the clouds, the wind and the birds after reaching their goals. They teach lessons always.