Chennai. A beautiful city with everything one could dream of. The lively city of the ocean, fish, the southern Chandini Chowk, semma music and the world-famous Madras baashai. How could I forget, the people of our soil, thumping their chests in the pride of the language that rolls and dances on their tongues with grace, my own language. Our chill December evenings, adorned beautifully by the cultured voices and the thump of the mridangams, along with a comforting aroma of freshly ground coffee and vadai. The nectarine sweetness of our 'zha' will always echo on our lips. Our flowing, delicate Kanchipuram drapes embrace every woman, accentuating the beauty of our Tamil damsels.
This weekend, I got to take a stroll on the shores of Besant Nagar. I have always loved the waves and seaside breeze. I have always enjoyed the ruffle of the ocean breeze and the spray of the seawater.
No matter how much luxury money can buy, nothing can beat the chidlike joy of wading in the waters with your feet. Sticking my feet into the warm current of gloaming means the perfect ending to a wonderful day.
Not to forget, it was also my first try at shooting balloons on the shore. Just getting to experience and soak in the beauty of my own city feels wonderful. It seems as though life's biggest tokens of happiness lie in the damp grains of sand. The tears of the heavens collected in a pool of endless depth and wonders. It feels like these tears of joy, as they wash over your feet, suck all the sadness out of you as the current pulls you further into the sloshy mud. It feels lovely to watch the heavens and the deep treasures hold hands and walk into oblivion. Coming off the shore, there is yet another ocean - of vibrant umbrellas.
It feels like the ocean is home. It feels like I belong here, somewhere along the foam of the waters, floating away in peace. Everything feels like mine. Every grain of sand speaks history and every musing of the waters gently hum poetry. I finally feel at home, as I bury my heels in the sand. The salty breeze, sticky heat, the foamy waves and the grains of sand all feel like home, like where I should be. Where my soul dwells, sans everything.
The place where my thoughts and feelings flow with truth. Where my thoughts and dreams dance in flashing colours before my eyes. Letting my eyes wander and roam and watch the sky and ocean embrace each other with open arms lets the little bud of love blossom in me. After everything is done with, I can never forget the minutes of silence amid the waves and the breeze, crouched on the rocks. That silence is one, despite the cacophony of the crowd, that will never die away.
Just staring into the waters with blank eyes is beauty itself. It is when I feel most humane, like every mortal, letting one's woes and worries float away in the water. Facing the mighty waves, every problem crumbles to ashes and disappears, like the sputtering foam bubbles on my wet feet. The impermanence of life sets in, when I watch the waves washing ashore tiny clams and mussels, helpless in the damp, caked sand. Seconds later, the orphaned clams are swept back by the waves in love, as if it forgot to take them along.
Watching the clams play in the soil is something that will never bore you. Stuck in the clayey mud, these tiny creatures try talking to me, peeking and squiggling out of their shells. Some hide in fear, burying themselves under the wet soil. Some gather courage, and patiently wait for the water to carry and embrace it, back in its arms. That is how life plays around, doesn't it?
Comments
Post a Comment