Refractive Thoughts

Heat and light in the shine of the bright sun Vastness and blueness in the peace of the azure sky Ripples and droplets in the waves of the endless ocean Life and the resplendent presence of the brown earth Is you and resides in you Rays of the sun that shines through in its path Reflections and refractions so created in its existence Atoms it excites to infuse the flora and the fauna Shadows cast to create hues of light Is you and resides in you Gleams of blue it glows into the waking birds and animals Balance and poise it instills into life and its beings Peace and tranquility in abundance it bestows upon all Thoughts soar as you gaze into its limitlessness Is you and resides in you Biodiversity that it breathes into and wakes up its life Streams of waves to raise droplets of hope Ideas it advances across frontiers of continents Shallow and deep its true nature Is you and resides in you Magnificence it soaks into the enormous spread ...

‘Chalte Chalte’ is a pyaara geet (sweet song) from the 70s sung by the versatile singer Kishore da in his inimitable style. This melodious tune stays with you for the entire day – they’re called earworms.  A melodious song unleashed at an inappropriate time is like a mistimed elegant cover-drive in cricket that lands in the fielder’s safe hands… The year was 1977; on this day my septuagenarian grandma in-charge of the kitchen handed me a tray with 4 cups of piping hot coffee to be served to family members in the living room.  Tray in my hand and the coffee aroma wafting through I started to hum this tune!  My grandma from inside shouted ‘I warned you to be careful; did anything spill on you and did it burn your skin?  Or did you drop the cups on any family member?’- she was relentless!  For you readers, my grandma did not speak or understand Hindi language, she was unaware of this popular Hindi song, and ‘chalte’ in local Kannada language means ‘spilled!’ ...

For most of us who wade through the snail-paced traffic in the BTM area in Bangalore, and as we dread to approach the (in)famous silk-board junction, it is a way too familiar sight to see a mentally challenged individual planted next to the median.   He extends his right arm to touch the mirror of almost every other car that passes by him.   Sometimes he is clean-shaven and sometimes present in a disheveled manner, but lo behold, there is not a single car that escapes his magic touch.   Each touch gives him a sense of achievement, and then you see peace writ large on his face. When I see him get ready to touch my car, I squirm enough to shut my eyes closed, albeit temporarily.   My peace though in peril when a collage of thoughts crisscrosses my mind – who is this person, who are his family members who let him free, does he know his life is in danger as he attempts to touch the moving cars?   Does he count the number of vehicles that ply the road?  ...