Time

Tick-Tock, Time For Treasure Hunt

Tick-tock-tick-tock…

Match clocks!
[Source – Booked for Life]

Is it the time for the fluttering bird to take a dip in the tiny cool puddle, and for the other one, that flame-throated bulbul, carrying a silky grass leaf to that topmost branch of that lush happy tree, to finish weaving its nest?

And is it the time for the Oo slithery snake, zigzagging like a threatening thought, to just be itself and rest in the sun, simply meditating, with its uncanny sense of smell taking in the jungle’s fragrance?

And… and is it the time for the slim sharp golden jackal, dancing a slow jazz twist otherwise, to sit under a tree with a full stomach, attentive ears and a cheerful beam?

And ohhh… is it the time then… for the lion-tailed macaques, frolicking as a rule, to alert-a-l-e-r-t-ALERT all in the jungle about the royal king’s visit?

Is it the time… I don’t know… there isn’t a clock in the jungle that tells time. Is there? Yes, there indeed is.

The animal and plant kingdom are joyful disciplined folks, every species, diurnal and nocturnal, breathe in the jungle’s air, finish all its chores on time, maintain a balanced diet, sip water leisurely and quietly rests zzz…

They keep following the clock that shines up in the sky – they follow the shadows and the white shimmery light at night and the rhythmical wind and the damp, dry, crumbly and chilly seasons.

Clock in the Jungle (written by Ketki Pandit and illustrated by Sneha Uplekar) narrates in verse this saga of the punctual wildlife, revealing a powerful secret that every species adhere to by choice, the simple sweet habit of keeping the clock always running.


Tick-tock-tick-tock…                   

Listen to this another story that utters no word, that is as silent as a voiceless thought, behold its magic, it will enchant you, surprise you and remind you of the climate’s call.

My Friends Are Missing (by paper artist Keerthana Ramesh) is a pop-up book that introduces us to thirty endangered species in the world, delicate, quiet and tolerant beings, that are battling the climate’s challenge, positioned at the forefront, they continue to face the impatient and greedy world’s madness.

Just like in the pop-up book, these species with a functioning clock and a devoted heart, step forward in the drastically changing world where their natural habitats are transformed into a smog-loving, power-hungry factory that clickety-clack runs in the anti-clock direction, challenging the earth’s circadian cycle.

“The damage is ours, the curse is ours, the solution won’t come from the aliens”, said a Kemp’s ridley sea turtle before taking a dip in the Gulf of Mexico.

And what the elusive bird, New Caledonian Owlet-Nightjar, commented in 1998 isn’t clear because it vanished before the reporter could pen-it-down and hasn’t been spotted since then.


Tick-tock-tick tock…

Our lovely home!
[Source – Kobo.com]

Only our blue-green planet knows where this elusive bird resides, but she won’t tell for she loves mysteries. Our lonely planet is not so lonely as so many hidden mysteries and stories unfolding simultaneously accompany it; our dear earth provides a home for all.

In How The Earth Got Its Beauty (written by Sudha Murty and illustrated by Priyanka Pachpande) Mother Earth, decades after the creation of the planet, disguised as a little girl meets three sisters – Sunaina, Shyama and Seeta – to find out if humans are living peacefully and she finds out that the three sisters desire for something else in their lives. Will Mother Earth grant their wishes?

The story emphasises values like patience, compassion and empathy, highlighting also the selflessness and power of Mother Earth; the author writes, “Whenever humans become selfish and uncaring towards Mother Earth, she makes her presence felt and restores the balance in the world.”

We, the forgetful ones, so often forget about our home, not the walled-well-lit-well-decorated-space, but the beautiful breathing planet that never forgets us even when it rotates ceaselessly, matching its clock with the burning star’s every aeon.


Tick-tock-tick tock…

It is time for a treasure hunt, go to the jungle and look for a clock, then walk in the direction its three hands (seconds, minutes and hours) point at, one day at a time, and look for the endangered species. Be patient and kind, focus on the treasure, the great grand treasure, value it, it is your home, your only home.


Grab these wonderful books now –

Clock In The Jungle by Ketki Pandit, Illustrated by Sneha Uplekar (click here);

How the Earth Got its Beauty written by Sudha Murty and illustrated by Priyanka Pachpande (click here).

And also flip through Keerthana Ramesh’s My Friends Are Missing

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She, the Infinite

A Poem

She, in red!
[Image by Gil Dekel from Pixabay.]

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For building a house, thought God,

What could be the strongest element to mix

In the foundation so that the house wins over Time?

What could be infinite in nature, powerful and rejuvenating

So that the house nurtures love, peace and joy,

So that the flames of birth and death doesn’t sicken or weaken

This house called the Universe?

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“There is nothing as alive as the feminine part of me,

It is infinite, supreme and divine;

My lovely equilibrium, my alighted spirit,

Fulfil this task, rise-o-infinite!”

-Said God.

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And so the house called the Universe was built with feminine power at its core.

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Sun – A Flambeau Hi-Fi

Super close-up of the sun. [Source – BBC]

Brimming over with pure joy, spewing liquid gold, the sun transforms its energy and glows.

In our rawness, oh, we only see it as fire, blasting waves of bright power. Gathered around its warmth we live and grow and pray and surrender.

We cherish its radiance; we dance and sing always attuned somehow to it. I say somehow for we are cursed and blessed with a weak memory.

The sun is our time, a flambeau hi-fi and it is brimming over with pure joy, spewing liquid gold, the sun transforms its energy and glows.


Inspired by a BBC news report – Sun’s surface seen in remarkable new detail


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Unpack Your Destiny

The journey within…
[Image by Victoria Borodinova from Pixabay]

In a green velvety suitcase inside a wooden trunk she packed it nicely, neatly, firmly forever.  

“I want it to be safe.” While the world rises and falls without any knowledge of it, she feels positive and shielded; her destiny is properly packed and locked.

Sitting cross legged she awaits the change, for the destiny to operate from underneath her crisp, fine, obvious thoughts, packed and placed in a corner.  

“I keep in touch of course, why are you being so sarcastic?” She laughs loudly for she is confident of her victory and rightly so, what will stand in her way when she remembers to keep a check on the package, clean the dust off the wooden trunk and pray that the suitcase does not vanish away magically.  

“Yes I remember, it is my destiny, I know…” She knows it all, yet she is afraid and waits for others’ approval and appreciation. Calculating the possibilities, probabilities, time and years she takes a step forward.  

She did pack a piece of the truth in that suitcase, what is wrong in it?

She forgot to unpack it, she forgot that the truth evolves, our understanding evolves. What is destined for someone is destined and yet it changes, that is the rule.  

The truth, the destiny unfolds when a mind lets it.  


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Crossing The Bridge To Complete The Circle

…to bridge the circle.
[Image by David Mark from Pixabay]

He who cannot forgive breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass.

George Herbert

For it is a circle and you must learn to remember.  

The stored memories, the cherished ideas, the endless thoughts, the proud emotions, the stubborn beliefs, the intuitive steps and the unknown, all of it nurtured by time. You learn to watch for the twists and turns, you accept the changes, sooner or later. You experience the journey.  

And when those eyes are old enough, when that smile is true, that is when you are able to see another’s journey and that is when you are able to forgive… for life is a circle and you must learn to remember.


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A Simple Prism

Colour blast within!
[Image by kitti851 from Pixabay]

Conversations and time

Old ones like wine

That which is far

Or locked in a jar

Called by memories

And sifting through the debris

Through patient hands

Holding back and

Letting go in a rhythm

Like a simple prism

That knows its colours

Always leave me coloured…

And I walk ahead

With a better vision.

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The World of Candyfloss

Flying by the curled lamp post in the candyfloss world.
Image from Pixabay.

Yes, it was the world of candyfloss. Pink softness everywhere. The sky was pink and you could touch and have a piece of it.

The cottony air filled your mind, making you smile. The pink trees and the pink flowers and everything else was so sweet that one had to smile.

In pleasure, I lurched and took myself in some direction. The path was quite visible because it wasn’t pink. Yes, the path wasn’t made of candyfloss.

So I walked and walked for some more time. I couldn’t think of anything, maybe it was the sweet air. Then I saw a beautiful lamp post, it was long and curled at the top, like a curled flower.

But the lamp post was also not made of candyfloss. Don’t know why. The path curved in left and then right direction. I would have kept walking but then I reached a circle and felt tired.

Luckily, there was a bench nearby and I decided to rest. The bench was cold and solid and oh it too wasn’t pink and candy-flossy. I found it strange.

In a few minutes, I lied down on the bench. The pink sky was full of fluffy pink clouds. It was so pretty. I took a bite first and then ate leisurely, playing with the sugary cloud.

A long time passed and then weird things occurred.

The clouds turned black and made angry sounds and it started to rain. In zero time I was soaked from top to bottom. And then it happened.

I simply rubbed my eyes and blinked and what I saw then was not the world of candyfloss. The pink, light, cotton world had just gone. I don’t know where!

A bicycle rudely passed me at that moment. Yeah, someone was riding it. I decided to hitch-hike and so I did.

All my way to someplace I kept thinking about the world of candyfloss. I still do, especially when I eat candyfloss. And also when I lie down, not to sleep but just like that.

Candyfloss clouds in this world
Image from Pixabay.

The world of candyfloss!

In this world I think three things are just like the world of candyfloss, one candyfloss, second clouds and the third is Time. I mean literally. Yes!  


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A Memory in My Pocket

Prose Poem

I found a memory folded in a paper. I read it and it hit me.
 
The memory was not meant to meet me. It was draped with words that were very loud. Terse and cold.
 
It said ‘I am leaving you…forever’ with the initials Rosie.K.
 
I wondered how the person for whom this memory was meant to be dealt with it.
 
Naively, I searched around for Rosie.K, but the wind made my eyes wet instead.
 
I read and re-read the memory as if it would reveal some more of it through magical words.
 
Why do memories always make us halt, lying to us that we can play with time, even reverse it?
 
I folded the memory again and kept it in my jacket’s pocket.
 
It tickles me whenever it feels like making me unfold it.
 
A Memory In My Pocket
Image by TanteTati from Pixabay

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