The sun is out in its glory. It's bright but not unkind and unloving. Light plays patterns on the ground, filtered through the trees. The cluster of tall trees, right next to the lake stand together like village elders discussing some thing, in the sun.
An expat with his son is out to enjoy the Sun. The man should be in his thirties, well built and handsome, and the kid very tiny. The boy wears a blue shirt with shorts of same colour and a cap, which becomes him very much. He wanders around collecting sticks fallen on the ground from the trees from between the fallen leaves, as the father walks with the stroller. Dad must be athletic, wearing Adidas from the top to bottom, the white Tee, blue shorts and shoes. Breeze is calm and refreshing, almost caressing and comforting with its touch. I hope to lose migraine soon, merely by the blessings of this kind weather. A couple settles down in the bench next to me and they laugh, shout and indulge in playful banter.
Flowers are in full bloom, dense creamy ones on the left, contained to one section , thus emphasising their density and youth. Another set is across, in the middle of the green open space, with multitude of colours, but with caged boundaries. The latter one is truly a riot of colours, violets, yellows and red and blues. Another couple is walking in from the far end with dreams in those closely held arms and search for a secluded bench with great view in their eyes. The boy wears a white Tee and jeans and the girl with an interesting kind of top, a kimono kind of dress, long one with horizontal black stripes, ending right below the knees. After minor deliberations, they set themselves up right in front of my bench. It is amusing to watch these kids, and anticipate their future. Today they struggle against the whole world to merge and be one. What will become of them tomorrow? They will get married and then strive to search their own space, and run away from one another for that elusive emancipation, little realising emancipation is such a grand concept that is so hard to capture. The boy sings a song and the girl looks at him encouragingly. Someday, they will be unkind to each other just to show it to themselves that they have won each other in the battle for love and thus lose the battle strenuously won. Will they? Will they hate one another for the very things which they love today? I hope and pray they may not.
Two expat ladies walk in to the sunlit agora, the taller and younger one talking animatedly, and the older one listening calmly. They walk to the caged flowers and watch them briefly before moving on. A group of family arrives, with kids and all and they stop by, under the small group of smaller trees, smaller then the set of elders, who are right now making my roof. All the benches by now are occupied by couples, visibly in love, except mine, which is held quite ungraciously by a middle aged man, writing on his iPad, as a sore aberration to an otherwise lovely visual. The sounds of kids and birds fill they sky, but for some reason, from somewhere, I can feel a melody of love, an undercurrent of romantic orchestra playing as an undercurrent. The couple with kimono girl walks away looking for some better place. I need to vacate this place so some one may use it for some worthier use, which fits into well with the romantic pattern. God bless you all the loving souls, may you find love, welcome it into your abode and then offer it a place of honour and respect which it truly deserves. Never forget there are two essentials for love, respect and forgiveness, and a little bit of adamant madness. Stay loving, kids.
An expat with his son is out to enjoy the Sun. The man should be in his thirties, well built and handsome, and the kid very tiny. The boy wears a blue shirt with shorts of same colour and a cap, which becomes him very much. He wanders around collecting sticks fallen on the ground from the trees from between the fallen leaves, as the father walks with the stroller. Dad must be athletic, wearing Adidas from the top to bottom, the white Tee, blue shorts and shoes. Breeze is calm and refreshing, almost caressing and comforting with its touch. I hope to lose migraine soon, merely by the blessings of this kind weather. A couple settles down in the bench next to me and they laugh, shout and indulge in playful banter.
Flowers are in full bloom, dense creamy ones on the left, contained to one section , thus emphasising their density and youth. Another set is across, in the middle of the green open space, with multitude of colours, but with caged boundaries. The latter one is truly a riot of colours, violets, yellows and red and blues. Another couple is walking in from the far end with dreams in those closely held arms and search for a secluded bench with great view in their eyes. The boy wears a white Tee and jeans and the girl with an interesting kind of top, a kimono kind of dress, long one with horizontal black stripes, ending right below the knees. After minor deliberations, they set themselves up right in front of my bench. It is amusing to watch these kids, and anticipate their future. Today they struggle against the whole world to merge and be one. What will become of them tomorrow? They will get married and then strive to search their own space, and run away from one another for that elusive emancipation, little realising emancipation is such a grand concept that is so hard to capture. The boy sings a song and the girl looks at him encouragingly. Someday, they will be unkind to each other just to show it to themselves that they have won each other in the battle for love and thus lose the battle strenuously won. Will they? Will they hate one another for the very things which they love today? I hope and pray they may not.
Two expat ladies walk in to the sunlit agora, the taller and younger one talking animatedly, and the older one listening calmly. They walk to the caged flowers and watch them briefly before moving on. A group of family arrives, with kids and all and they stop by, under the small group of smaller trees, smaller then the set of elders, who are right now making my roof. All the benches by now are occupied by couples, visibly in love, except mine, which is held quite ungraciously by a middle aged man, writing on his iPad, as a sore aberration to an otherwise lovely visual. The sounds of kids and birds fill they sky, but for some reason, from somewhere, I can feel a melody of love, an undercurrent of romantic orchestra playing as an undercurrent. The couple with kimono girl walks away looking for some better place. I need to vacate this place so some one may use it for some worthier use, which fits into well with the romantic pattern. God bless you all the loving souls, may you find love, welcome it into your abode and then offer it a place of honour and respect which it truly deserves. Never forget there are two essentials for love, respect and forgiveness, and a little bit of adamant madness. Stay loving, kids.
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