Enthralling Trails

  “ I remember my childhood names for grasses and secret flowers. I remember where a toad may live and what time the birds awaken in the summer -- and what trees and seasons smelled like -- how people looked and walked and smelled even. The memory of odors is very rich.”   ―   John Steinbeck ,   East of Eden  It  was dark brown with a white inner, it was long and portly and had curled itself spreading totally on the grill door. The  inner wooden door was hanging open. I quickly resolved and shut the wooden door while pulling my son in doors. As  we sighed, my husband told me it was a harmless water snake and must have slithered owing to the heavy rains. I recalled another occasion, when I  had seen a viper entwine the hibiscus plant and later spread itself on the roof of the branches not knowing how to escape. I rushed to the terrace and looked down smugly to see it struggle. There I felt a vicious joy surge in as it struggled in despair. I  kept looking on as, they say, enco

‘ Happiness is not a place where you reach but a state which you create’ –Robin Sharma             It was mid May summer evening. I was waiting for my friend in the garden area which is a part of a multiple building blocks.  I heard loud noises of children running in the central park around the godly figurines, rejoicing, their prattle and laughter demonstrating the happiness they felt during summer vacation. Far away I saw a mother followed by her little daughter, holding a writing pad in her hand and a school bag on her shoulder, the mother seemed annoyed while the little girl sported a sore expression on her face. The child’s thoughts were focussed elsewhere as she followed her mother. The child may not have been more than three years old so it perplexed me more. These days we find children going for guidance to tutors throughout their growing years of  schooling so often that when a child refuses to go for extra classes, the mother worries as to how  a child would cope up

“The price of greatness is responsibility.”   ―   Winston Churchill The stream of water emerged out in a jet and surged ten feet above us. It was breathtaking to watch it in the backdrop of  a spherical red glowing  sun rising in the blue canopy interspersed with clouds. The underbridge that connects Pradhikaran and Ravet has open space on both the sides of the road. A water pipe had burst on the  side that leads to Pradhikaran. It was early in the morning, and there was an early morning walker who was admiring the panorama. Looking at the jet of water we stopped for a while, and decided to go to the office of the municipal water authority in PCMC to report the gushing eruption of water. The office is a little away from the place we live. On reaching the office, we found the road leading the office was sandy with pebbles strewn all over the path leading towards  the entrance of the building, but the gates were thrown open. We saw a security seated on a chair with his eyes half cl

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.”   ―   Plato The post office at Nigdi is situated in the by lanes of Pradhikaran.  It is  not a very large one but has quarters in the campus for a few of its employees. It has one of its side walls facing another lane which leads to the police station and the Excise office.  We need to turn into this lane to reach our apartments. It is surrounded by trees making  its environs cool,  On  the side facing the lane there is a huge Gulmohar tree. In English, it is named Royal Poinciana or Flamboyant. It is also one of several trees known as  Flame tree . The place is beautiful during  spring  and summer due to the  roofed blossoms of red flowers making the tree look discriminatingly lovely as the leaves appear lesser than the red flowers. My son told me that, at this spot a Robin bird flew down the tree and leisurely took a clean perch well away from a Praying Mantis eyeing it, considering the prospect of relishing it.

“Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”   George Bernard Shaw He trailed behind me as I entered the gate, into the campus, up the stairs.  Hastily, I rushed into the library. He paused at the doorway, and moved into the corridor, I peeped to watch him quiver along the stairs which led to the other sections in the Arts building of Pune University . He seemed young, perhaps he was in his twenties but lacked the ability to  coordinate his body movements. I returned the library books and came back only to find him outside the building in the dried woods where the cars are parked. I ran and got into the car and looked at him fearfully, but he did not see me,  he rushed back into the building again with the same look on his face, searching for what he had forgotten. His body pulled him apart and hurled him to another place in spite of his organised thoughts. Perhaps he was challenging life for the demands which had left him without the most basic esse