Yesterday was a very tiring day. It was so tiring that I am still feel hung over with fatigue. Had a client meeting all day and it was so much work! But overall, it was good.
The drive to Lonavala was just so pretty. That opaque vista and those grey mountains and a sweet tender sky ready to weep! That whole scene looked like it was painted on muslin. I can understand why someone had come up with the phrase 'fabric of life'. Sometimes the world does look like it's just rolled out on a bolt of printed cloth.
The full moon last night was scrumptious. Shopped a lot. Wrote a little. In keeping with J's advice, also lit a couple of diyas around midnight. It was so beautiful. A moon that was lost behind the trees, the soft glow of the diyas, my pots - some standing tall with white blossoms and some shedding leaves that have turned golden. Some leaves are brown now and they fall off and look like pretty paper shells.There was a pigeon perched on a picture and it looked startled on seeing me. I don't like pigeons and I was hoping it would go away. But there was such a deep sense of peace and communion that it just felt right to share it whoever showed up. In my case, it was a pigeon.
You know what I have learned from relationships that don't work out? Or rather that they don't work in the ways you want them to? That we forget those times when the togetherness was perfect - not imagined or hypothetical - but actually, really perfect. Like the leaves that were green and plump and fresh. And one day, these leaves dry up and fall off. And then we focus on the green leaves again. But what if we didn't? What if we picked up each brown leaf that's dead and held it tenderly? One would probably see that even in death, it's perfect. Shrivelled and not what it once was - but whole and complete all the same.
It's amazing how nothing escapes beauty. And beauty escapes nothing.
The drive to Lonavala was just so pretty. That opaque vista and those grey mountains and a sweet tender sky ready to weep! That whole scene looked like it was painted on muslin. I can understand why someone had come up with the phrase 'fabric of life'. Sometimes the world does look like it's just rolled out on a bolt of printed cloth.
The full moon last night was scrumptious. Shopped a lot. Wrote a little. In keeping with J's advice, also lit a couple of diyas around midnight. It was so beautiful. A moon that was lost behind the trees, the soft glow of the diyas, my pots - some standing tall with white blossoms and some shedding leaves that have turned golden. Some leaves are brown now and they fall off and look like pretty paper shells.There was a pigeon perched on a picture and it looked startled on seeing me. I don't like pigeons and I was hoping it would go away. But there was such a deep sense of peace and communion that it just felt right to share it whoever showed up. In my case, it was a pigeon.
You know what I have learned from relationships that don't work out? Or rather that they don't work in the ways you want them to? That we forget those times when the togetherness was perfect - not imagined or hypothetical - but actually, really perfect. Like the leaves that were green and plump and fresh. And one day, these leaves dry up and fall off. And then we focus on the green leaves again. But what if we didn't? What if we picked up each brown leaf that's dead and held it tenderly? One would probably see that even in death, it's perfect. Shrivelled and not what it once was - but whole and complete all the same.
It's amazing how nothing escapes beauty. And beauty escapes nothing.
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Pune52.
Song : Jag Sare Badale
Singer: Shalmali Kholgade
Composer: Atif Afzal