It lay dormant for many years, ages.
in the dark, comfortable, cosy.
No water could reach it,
and not the sunlight.
the passage of time,
the revolution of the planet,
ushered in some moonlight,
Some movement, in the worlds above.
They say faith moves mountains.
Have you seen mountains move?
now, a teacher’s faith!
She brought in fresh air;
The ground started breathing,
and having conversations.
The sun reached in,
and touched the shadows
and questions.
“Is the individual for society,
or society for the individual?”
Water rushed in,
ever-loyal to gravity
and conversation flowed –
“Does name matter?
Work is work;
water is the form of its container.”
One uncomfortable morning,
the ground broke.
And the young one peeped out,
eyes covered.
To discover the forest.
Conversations abound
nourishing,
strengthening,
questioning,
the sweat and blood of growing up.
Yet another morning,
not so uncomfortable,
the not-so-young-one
found purpose.
More conversation,
“Can there be an individual purpose?
What is a wall?
Robert Frost knew the secret.
‘Something there is that doesn’t love a wall’
roots uproot,
here in the forest.
creepers grow thick as thieves,
and create gaps,
walls crumble.
Even the Berlin one did.
and the great China one,
is on its way there.
Do the tourist, you will see.”
On this morning,
fresh after the rains,
the smell of beauty
rising from the ground;
Fluttering its leaves,
dancing with the breeze
standing,
with friends and family,
and community,
Here is the neem,
There is the tamarind,
and the peepal,
the banyan,
the young ones,
the herbs and the flowering,
the thorny and the leafy....
the direction seems clear,
and yet not so much.
“My shade is for the asking,
the fruits will come in season,
twigs for firewood
grass underneath
for cows and goats.
And yet,
What is it that I am doing?
What is just me?
Kabir says to his Lord: You,
are the bigness in the elephant,
and the smallness in the ant,”
Asks the not-young-one,
“What makes the I-ness in the I?
Fruits arrive naturally.”
- Priya
