And my heart sang ‘It’s raining leaves!’

Engrossed in my work at the laptop, a shimmer of gold from outside the window caught the corner of my eye. Were gold flakes being thrown out of an aircraft from above? Was this an innovation in professing love – flower petals replaced by gold flakes?

I ran to the window with these thoughts running through my head. And what a sight beheld me. The leaves of the tree were being gently loosened from their place on the branch, by an ever so lilting breeze. The golden leaves performed a delicate dance, pirouetting in the air, before finally settling on the ground beneath. Golden leaves – brown actually – having lost the greenery of youth, were on their way to their final resting place. Final did I say? Come to think of it, they were going back to where they came from only to return, caught in the cycle of leaves-mulch-nourishment for the tree-sprouting of new leaves-leaves growing old and falling-mulch . . .

Even in their death they were useful – supporting the very life system they nourished during their living years. Watching the leaf dance, I came face to face with the person in the mirror, asking – How useful are you to the society you live in? How much do you contribute to the environment you take from? Are you producing more than you are consuming? Are you giving more than you are taking?

On a Breezy Summer’s Day

In the sweltering summer heat, as one desperately attempts to be comfortable by all means, the greatest respite is the cool summer breeze. As it gently wafts in through the open window, bringing with it sweet relief, I can’t help but thank it profusely for making its presence felt. Thanks to the scorching Chennai heat, it finally dawned on me why in our Indian culture, even the wind is deified as Vayu, the God of Wind. Experience the Indian summer amidst long hours of power shutdowns and you will be his ardent devotee (like me)!

So subtle it is that we don’t recognise its presence until its either soothing us in the heat or chilling our bones in the cold. It comes and goes at will, sometimes makes its presence felt while at other times it does its duty without ruffling even a feather. It caresses tenderly like a mother tending to her child, and then there are those days when it unleashes its furry, thrashing everything that lies in its path.

What I admire most about the wind is that it carries everything with it, but does not get tainted by anything. It carries the scent of the flowers that it passes by, but the scent does not become a part of it. It carries the stench of the garbage bin, yet remains as pure as it always was. It reminds me to learn to have and not to hold; to develop the ability to carry along but drop at will, and thus to travel light through this journey of life.