Monsoons are coming, Or are they ?
They say that this year it’ll not rain but the skies are going to weep. Clouds have arrived two weeks early. Even the universe knows, that this time children are angry, they are not participating in anything. All are quiet and vulnerable.
Few years ago, i travelled through Rural Bengal once in majestic Indian Monsoons. Being there it felt like my soul grew while in only seeing the earth showing her abundance, her happiness. So much went inside me then that i had to write a letter to a friend who sat far. Not to tell her as such, but to learn myself what was going.
Clouds have arrived, I knew it ended right there with this photograph. I realised home is calling.
Silda Football Ground
Rain was never far behind. This happened to be that moment of my journey. This tree felt home away from home.
Travels have not been too comfortable but its liberating to learn that i could come to west bengal at this time. Clouds don’t seem to be moving ahead but are moving, and moving in circles. Fields are just too green everywhere, and roads connecting villages too red. Pond’s are over filled, and women, girls in them makes me feel at times, its worthless to get educated and get conscious of your knowledge. The only thing one has to learn is the language of the world that has no place for words in it. And yes the cows, goats, buffalos, ducks, hen and chickens are in plenty lazing around, sleeping, staring, fearing, grazing, walking, running on the road and off it. This part of the countryside has filled me with pride of some unknown sense or probably i am feeling just too free on this stretched journey after Bihar. Everything has been like an ongoing painting for me.
For the first time looking out at the landscape made me think of poems that i have not written. No painting or a photograph will fill the feeling of how i felt at that particular moment when i saw this beautiful long haired santhali woman bathing in the country side pond behind the palm trees. As I rode my bicycle i kept trying to look back at her, but i couldn’t as that one tree kept coming between us. As it stood with its mammoth bark, the world moved inside me. I cycled. Soon came another pond where i saw two women, far walking in tandem carrying filled earthen pots on their heads to home. Daily routine. Yet I realised in that moment, them taking water from the source to their home is so important for the whole universe to keep moving, form changing with each forward step like life moving, slowly becoming out of small proportions into one big entity. So important for those earthen pots to be used. For the water to go in various houses, different blood streams, yet becoming one. Everything is present and its not, everything is true yet it is not. That moment I just wanted to stand and see nature, to drink everything that wants to work through me.
Dear M, I should talk about it and not just write and i wont even write about all the people i met all this while like mama and her two little daughters in Bankura, it will take too long and this reliance connection has not been too reliable off-late.
But you know M, every single body has been so gentle that it is melting me to even think of leaving. Bangla has not been in anyway a hindrance not that i know it all, i don’t know it at all apart from a few sentences but my guide for past 26 days has become one of my best ever co-traveller. I feel i owe him a lot and nothing too. What i owe him is just the love i can give back to him.
Have been in mao-ist area for past 2 weeks almost and even got into a little bit of tension one after other three times, all because of this camera i carry. The third happened just yesterday when i wanted to photograph a snake crossing the street, and it irked one man out of many. Only because i was a traveller like none other, thinking to have self learnt the art of loving and leaving well. All ended in peace as others came forward in my defence considering my harmlessness after a point.
Well, now when you have told me about your job down there very far, i wonder when and how i can come and spend my time with you. And well, i didn’t laugh at your dream.
Love from a little hut with many children running clothe-less, its raining.
And today as i post this, i just wish that when this year the rain comes, it washes our minds, our uncertainties and troubles. That it counters the venom that the world has seen all in 2020. May we come out new and happy like children bathing in a village pond.