Cribbing about another hectic week ,amid global financial crisis wouldn't have got worse with domestic problems escalating thanks to my official woes. Ignoring the basic stuff which comprises my world is often the biggest halt in ones growth and Quite often or not we think.we are doing everything for it lest we forget to take care of it.
Its like buying few Eggs for hatching some Chicks and ultimately ending up opening a Poultry farm and forgetting about those few Chicks you wanted to breed. As one of my favourite trainers said in his invitational speech "Life is what comes to us when we plan for something else"
On this casual note I landed up on this weekend, fast and fragile like a desert storm trying to grab everything it can before hitting next village. Ultimately nothing comes in hand except the sand of dunes which also settles just few miles away.
Long back on such weekends I would pack leisurely unlike all uptown boys of Srinagar and head to Manasbal. It was as if a Martian would have got an Earth to rule upon. Automatically my superiority complex of being a city boy was a welcome gesture in village cricket team. It is another story that they were far better players than my next 7 generations could be. The Wildness of Autumn was about to set in and Leaves of chinar were falling down to announce the end of another blissful , romantic and vibrant summer in Kashmir.
As Bus would make a shrieking halt in the market of Safapore , I would leave no stone unturned to announce my arrival.Grabbing the first available moment soon after having hot salty SHEER Chai and Rice floor Chapati, I would head towards to the nearest cricket field overseeing the manasbal lake...Nice Curly Mountains on all side and "Wooder" A plateau formation of small hills ...
Next on one side I would see Sainik school boys rowing their boats in discipline,some fisherman as busy as they could be, sericulture department on other side,sometimes an occasional NCC camp where aromatic kitchen was my destined pleasure.
Its like buying few Eggs for hatching some Chicks and ultimately ending up opening a Poultry farm and forgetting about those few Chicks you wanted to breed. As one of my favourite trainers said in his invitational speech "Life is what comes to us when we plan for something else"
On this casual note I landed up on this weekend, fast and fragile like a desert storm trying to grab everything it can before hitting next village. Ultimately nothing comes in hand except the sand of dunes which also settles just few miles away.
Long back on such weekends I would pack leisurely unlike all uptown boys of Srinagar and head to Manasbal. It was as if a Martian would have got an Earth to rule upon. Automatically my superiority complex of being a city boy was a welcome gesture in village cricket team. It is another story that they were far better players than my next 7 generations could be. The Wildness of Autumn was about to set in and Leaves of chinar were falling down to announce the end of another blissful , romantic and vibrant summer in Kashmir.
As Bus would make a shrieking halt in the market of Safapore , I would leave no stone unturned to announce my arrival.Grabbing the first available moment soon after having hot salty SHEER Chai and Rice floor Chapati, I would head towards to the nearest cricket field overseeing the manasbal lake...Nice Curly Mountains on all side and "Wooder" A plateau formation of small hills ...
Next on one side I would see Sainik school boys rowing their boats in discipline,some fisherman as busy as they could be, sericulture department on other side,sometimes an occasional NCC camp where aromatic kitchen was my destined pleasure.
Between I scored another duck like most of the times but was most wanted to bowl spin anytime.
Now after all the tussle and bustle it was the time to take out the small but sharpest knives .. use best archery skills and stone throwing competition .. get as many walnuts as possible from the trees... Unripe and covered with ligament which when cut would leave a Violet marks on my hands and my lips. These Violet Lips were enough for me to be caught by any Gardner and yet being forgiven.
During those days of poise only shots I would hear from the Gun filled with some rotten powder which would blast through funnel of gun and produce loud bang. Loud enough to scare the crows and birds from wall nut tress.. But within few years this loud bang was enough to turn my violet lips dry and scare me away from those fields into the dusty plains of INDIA.
Alas ! Voilets grow every season but I lost my Voilet lips of walnut theft for ever
Not sure whether those trees have birds still but I lost my habitat and lost those violet lips. One life one dream to retain those Violet Lips once again.. be caught by Gardner once again...swim across the lake once again.. run through fields to infinity once again... score few runs if not hundred... get few inches closer to the depth of lake and pluck out some more lotus stem.
3 comments:
Touching - that`s what the lines describing your blog are. Excuse me for my misplaced comments. From where I stand, I see a soul longing to get back to his homeland. I may be wrong but I know the feeling pretty well. When you start missing even the roads that people will put not price on. When you dream about bus stops and ditch ridden streets, about leaf less tress and power less nights... A floating chinar leaf: thats what I make of it...
Thanks Basin Amin... I appreciate your sentiment and understanding
Awesome blog Sir.
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