Kabini farm stay - 19 apr 6.45pm
lying in a hammock and looking up at the Areca nut tree - listening to the multitude of birds and insects chirping and returning to nests as the evening falls in, I kept thinking why can’t life be but one long evening of lying in hammocks?
The sway of the hammock in the mild wind , whishing through the grove of Areca nut trees and watching the odd coconut tree standing bewildered, the idea of being idle is but a reality.
The wind picks up as the sky above changes colour - from a light blue to an orange onto a bright red - reminds me of that poet who compared the late evening red sky to the first menstrual blood and wonder why am I thinking of that now?
The silence of the evening is broken by the hesitant start of a bike somewhere in the farm and I imagine the black smoke every time the murmur of that old engine struggles to start and finally it does and the sound fades away.
The sounds carried by the wind are a jumble of human , machines and birds and what not in that early night - as the evening has faded into a light black accentuated by the lights a little distance away.
Someone passes by and stands and watches the silhouette of the man lying in the hammock - furiously typing away his thoughts in a mobile in the dark and probably wonder who that be - I ignore their looks..
Then he notices a streak of cloud in that darkness of the sky , dissolving slowly into the black of the night and watches it fascinated.. the moon - that seems to be missing - is it a new moon day - a sudden panic ensues and he starts scanning the sky between the long leaves of Areca trees and decides the moon must be on the other side - too lazy to get up and look for it, he decides to let it be.. what harm is to fall if the moon is to go missing for a day? Who cares anyway?
He sees a streak of lightning flashing across the sky and the murmur of a distant thunder- the wind suddenly thinks whether it will rain.. the thought tickles him.. he is not going to get up and the thought of getting wet in the hammock excites..
He watches a bunch of kids in uniformed clothes walking by and asks them to give him a pose and take a picture.. one of the kid is his own daughter but the hammock somehow seem to have disconnected him..the kids move on and he is back to his own thoughts..
The increase in the wind chill suddenly reminds him of his often blocked sinuses.. he wonders whether lying here will block the sinuses further..he is not sure.. and decides he couldn’t care less about the damned sinuses anyway..
As he watches the seemingly frequent lightnings and the thunders , he slowly going into a slumber.. he awakens when a voice calls him out to congratulate on his hammock idleness..
He gets down and walk away telling the hammock that he will be back the next day..
lying in a hammock and looking up at the Areca nut tree - listening to the multitude of birds and insects chirping and returning to nests as the evening falls in, I kept thinking why can’t life be but one long evening of lying in hammocks?
The sway of the hammock in the mild wind , whishing through the grove of Areca nut trees and watching the odd coconut tree standing bewildered, the idea of being idle is but a reality.
The wind picks up as the sky above changes colour - from a light blue to an orange onto a bright red - reminds me of that poet who compared the late evening red sky to the first menstrual blood and wonder why am I thinking of that now?
The silence of the evening is broken by the hesitant start of a bike somewhere in the farm and I imagine the black smoke every time the murmur of that old engine struggles to start and finally it does and the sound fades away.
The sounds carried by the wind are a jumble of human , machines and birds and what not in that early night - as the evening has faded into a light black accentuated by the lights a little distance away.
Someone passes by and stands and watches the silhouette of the man lying in the hammock - furiously typing away his thoughts in a mobile in the dark and probably wonder who that be - I ignore their looks..
Then he notices a streak of cloud in that darkness of the sky , dissolving slowly into the black of the night and watches it fascinated.. the moon - that seems to be missing - is it a new moon day - a sudden panic ensues and he starts scanning the sky between the long leaves of Areca trees and decides the moon must be on the other side - too lazy to get up and look for it, he decides to let it be.. what harm is to fall if the moon is to go missing for a day? Who cares anyway?
He sees a streak of lightning flashing across the sky and the murmur of a distant thunder- the wind suddenly thinks whether it will rain.. the thought tickles him.. he is not going to get up and the thought of getting wet in the hammock excites..
He watches a bunch of kids in uniformed clothes walking by and asks them to give him a pose and take a picture.. one of the kid is his own daughter but the hammock somehow seem to have disconnected him..the kids move on and he is back to his own thoughts..
The increase in the wind chill suddenly reminds him of his often blocked sinuses.. he wonders whether lying here will block the sinuses further..he is not sure.. and decides he couldn’t care less about the damned sinuses anyway..
As he watches the seemingly frequent lightnings and the thunders , he slowly going into a slumber.. he awakens when a voice calls him out to congratulate on his hammock idleness..
He gets down and walk away telling the hammock that he will be back the next day..
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