Trip to the astrologer
A little quaint house,all of 400 sq ft. A small front courtyard. Beautiful, lush green trees and shrubs. Crowded in the little space. A central ” swastika tree”. The aroma of freshly made sambar and freshly brewed coffee emanating from the tiny kitchen. I sit in the little ante room, and look out of the window. Against the backdrop of an azure blue sky, clouds lazily drift past. A cool, tranquil day.
My mind, earlier in turmoil, with frayed nerves, the reason for the trip to the astrologer, now slowly regains its calm, its stillness of purpose. Watching the leaves sway, the swastika flowers dance, ever so gently, to the melody of the breeze.
In the kitchen, the lady of the house roasts the peanuts. In a slow, unhurried manner. All the luxury of the world, is right here. Time stops for a moment, with the wait to know about the future, and I drift back , wafting on the breeze, to my childhood.
The house where I was born, the garden where we played for hours, every day. The trees we climbed and the earthy smell of the clay vessels we made, with those grubby hands. Just my sister and me . The lives we led then, slowly fading over time, with other memories rushing in to take their place.
How I long for those days – “ Dil dhundta hai, phir wahi, fursat ke raat din “; “My heart searches, once again, for those days and nights of unhurried luxury”.
To quote Mahatma Gandhi -“There is more to life than increasing its speed”. There is certainly more to life..to luxury… just reducing speed sometimes does the trick.
Copyright @ainarao 2013.