One didn't have the faintest notion
The slightest hint
Of what was to come.
A few flowers fell at first
Feigning sleep, and hugged the ground.
Looking up, I saw the branches tremble.
What was there to fear?
Then a forlorn little one broke away
And fell – on the soft grass.
Marvelling at the way the treetop swayed,
I chuckled when a small mango hit my shoulder
Too small, to take a bite.
Faintly, I heard the rumble of a distant thunder -
Then dark clouds approached the skies rapidly
Darkening my world, swift, ruthless.
There were flashes in the sky
And thunders loud
A wind then swept across, chilling my heart
it was as if my world had gone mad.
I could hear the raging rains rushing up -
Where would I go, to whom could I turn to?
I run up to the old mango tree
My old mango tree
Beneath whom I grew up
Whose fruits I gorged on
On whom I had hung a swing and went up and down
Swinging, swaying, standing up in the wind.
I shiver – I hug, press my cheek on the rough, split bark
I shut my eyes tight
As rain wets my face like tears of my old mango tree.
*********** Balachandran V, Trivandrum, 25.06.2009
I am afraid i dont understand this one. All seems to be joyous to me , the majestic tree in its splendour which has just begun to flower , and the rains that blow.
ReplyDeleteWhy would the rain seem like tears of the old tree?
I interpreted this as the peace of homecoming. leaving the pleasant and warm home to meet the rainbows of this world, we often come across thunderous storms. at such times if we reach out to the home we left behind, we find it still as strong and capable of holding us through the storm..just like the mango tree.
ReplyDelete@gymnast: @ Sujata: The first two lines are portentous. The next lines draw a seemingly pleasant scene, though the falling flowers and breaking branch are ominous of things to come. Suddenly the scene changes. I am sure you would remember the times of torrential rains in Kerala/Bengal. There is a violent, wild face to nature. And then I run for shelter to my old mango tree. Now, beneath all these images, is a person whose life is suddenly changed because of unforeseen incidents. He is rudely shaken up from his placid, easy life by the harsh realities of life. What can he do then? Maybe he will run, like a child, to his mother/father - the mango tree who weeps...
ReplyDeleteSo much like the remnants of childhood. An excellent correlation of yourself, life, the storms and even a modicum of comfort in the mango tree that once gave you pleasure in its own way..now it shelters you as the tears mix with the rain... Sentimental in many ways.... Sandy
ReplyDeletethis april i had been to my ancestral home. the windows were shut, the door was locked and the roof on one side was sagging. nobody home, either departed or flown far away to make nests elsewhere. up to a couple of dozen of us used to assemble there during onam and other special occasions long ago. the cow shed was still in good condition, but there were no cows around. beneath the old mango tree in the courtyard, among the dead leaves, there were several fallen fruits. the mango tasted the same as long time ago.
ReplyDeleteis pain the oly feeling correlated wth nostalgia ?
ReplyDeletenice sketching,painful as well.
even storms must be going home in the end, dont u think.. everyone goes home, dont they, when all is over? What else is there to do?
ReplyDelete