One day, i want to live close to water.
As i get older, i have come to realize i have some deep unexplainable relationship with water. I love the sound of water, the feel of water and even just the visuals of water. It triggers something deep within me . It doesn't matter if it is a river, a sea, rains or even just the shower in the bathroom. I wish there was a word for that feeling, when all your senses are united, that of smell, the visual, the feel and you can sense everything together, in unison.
When you are young, you tend to latch on to whoever you are admiring at that point , to build many of your likes and dislikes, including the seasons. When i was young- winter it was, my "assumed" favorite season. In the past decade i have realized and now completely accept, nothing makes me happier than monsoons. While in school, when it rained, i would make excuses to dash through the rain. My favorite time of the year was when we played in the rains- running and skidding through the mud, winning, the last thing on the mind. As i grew up and started working, my fascination with the rains, the first drops probably scandalized people. I would turn it into a ritual of soaking in every bit i could. Get drenched, taste the first rains, inhale deep into my last pores the smell of rains as they hit the parched soil. That smell, oh that smell. The headiness of a drug. So yes, i would get drenched. It started with the excuse of first rains and graduated to awesome rains, to pouring rains and every year the number of times i would show up completely drenched was alarming, but yes, i couldn't resist the pull of monsoons. As i would drive into the jungles of my beautiful keonjhar, i would roll down the windows and feel the rain. I can't explain it in words, but even if i close my eyes and you put me in a time machine and transport me to a jungle, i would be able to tell you exactly what time of the monsoon it is. The jungles have a distinct smell at every phase, the early, mid and the end of monsoons. The trees- the huge sal trees, Sisu (Rosewood,shisham), kendu(tendu), panasa (Jackfruit), Ammba (Mango), Jamu (Jamun), Arjuna (Arjun), Kusuma ( Bakul, Mimusops elengi), Piasaala (Kino), Gamhari (Gamar), Nageswara (rose chestnut), Gulmohar, palasa (Palash, Flame of forest), simili (Silk Cotton)..they all smell different at different points and it's a different kind of heady. But i digress again.
Yes, rains. The beginning of rains , the flurry of activities when farmers worship the mother earth in Odisha and start start tilling. The standing farms of green as far as your eyes can see..i can probably write a book, just on monsoons... i did not realise when monsoons had over taken my life and when i became entwined with it. When i was younger , i could keep a pouch of soil in bag and taste it time to time. As that dry soil touched my tongue , it reminded me of rains. My mother would be really worried why i saved soil in different pouches at different places. I would tell her, i am collecting soil. Which was true- from different places, different smells of rain. I used to be fascinated , Still am, by soil.. the varieties, the way they behave, respond , to seasons, to vegetation. How one type would be suitable for certain plants, how another would not allow it to take root.. my experimentations still continue, in the tiny balconies.
Even when monsoon reaches its peak and people can't wait for the rains to stop, i still continue being fascinated- just staring at the rain, the deep dark green of the plants, the grass and weeds snaking through every bit they can. I think, no other season intrigues, engages and uplifts me like rains.
I probably formally acknowledged my love for the first time when i moved to Mumbai. The sultriness of summer and the rains following close at heels. You just can't stop smiling when rains come in to mumbai, into the roads, the trains, the offices, your house and into your life in large pelting drops. And besides the stinky clothes that never dry, i don't think i have anything to complain.
I know this has become more about the monsoons, but my fascination with water goes beyond just rains. To rivers and seas. The sound of water flowing, cutting through all barriers and trying again and again, to take the shape given to it and continue creating it's own. The giver of life and life itself. The tiny little stream at Gonasika turns into this huge baitarani, the few drops at Gangotri turn into the mighty Ganga, across the world, the thousands of streams to the five oceans.. the lakes and the seas.. The sound of the calm river and sea, softly paddling the shores. The angry river and sea in high tide and storm, crashing against the shores- but always moving, always alive.
In activities in workshops, sometimes they ask you, what thing in nature you resemble. I have given this so much thought- and have realized, i am water, a river, taking shape, breaking shape, calm and wild, learning and growing, gathering memories and images - in search still, moving..
Yes, i want to live by water one day. To be alive.
As i get older, i have come to realize i have some deep unexplainable relationship with water. I love the sound of water, the feel of water and even just the visuals of water. It triggers something deep within me . It doesn't matter if it is a river, a sea, rains or even just the shower in the bathroom. I wish there was a word for that feeling, when all your senses are united, that of smell, the visual, the feel and you can sense everything together, in unison.
When you are young, you tend to latch on to whoever you are admiring at that point , to build many of your likes and dislikes, including the seasons. When i was young- winter it was, my "assumed" favorite season. In the past decade i have realized and now completely accept, nothing makes me happier than monsoons. While in school, when it rained, i would make excuses to dash through the rain. My favorite time of the year was when we played in the rains- running and skidding through the mud, winning, the last thing on the mind. As i grew up and started working, my fascination with the rains, the first drops probably scandalized people. I would turn it into a ritual of soaking in every bit i could. Get drenched, taste the first rains, inhale deep into my last pores the smell of rains as they hit the parched soil. That smell, oh that smell. The headiness of a drug. So yes, i would get drenched. It started with the excuse of first rains and graduated to awesome rains, to pouring rains and every year the number of times i would show up completely drenched was alarming, but yes, i couldn't resist the pull of monsoons. As i would drive into the jungles of my beautiful keonjhar, i would roll down the windows and feel the rain. I can't explain it in words, but even if i close my eyes and you put me in a time machine and transport me to a jungle, i would be able to tell you exactly what time of the monsoon it is. The jungles have a distinct smell at every phase, the early, mid and the end of monsoons. The trees- the huge sal trees, Sisu (Rosewood,shisham), kendu(tendu), panasa (Jackfruit), Ammba (Mango), Jamu (Jamun), Arjuna (Arjun), Kusuma ( Bakul, Mimusops elengi), Piasaala (Kino), Gamhari (Gamar), Nageswara (rose chestnut), Gulmohar, palasa (Palash, Flame of forest), simili (Silk Cotton)..they all smell different at different points and it's a different kind of heady. But i digress again.
Yes, rains. The beginning of rains , the flurry of activities when farmers worship the mother earth in Odisha and start start tilling. The standing farms of green as far as your eyes can see..i can probably write a book, just on monsoons... i did not realise when monsoons had over taken my life and when i became entwined with it. When i was younger , i could keep a pouch of soil in bag and taste it time to time. As that dry soil touched my tongue , it reminded me of rains. My mother would be really worried why i saved soil in different pouches at different places. I would tell her, i am collecting soil. Which was true- from different places, different smells of rain. I used to be fascinated , Still am, by soil.. the varieties, the way they behave, respond , to seasons, to vegetation. How one type would be suitable for certain plants, how another would not allow it to take root.. my experimentations still continue, in the tiny balconies.
Even when monsoon reaches its peak and people can't wait for the rains to stop, i still continue being fascinated- just staring at the rain, the deep dark green of the plants, the grass and weeds snaking through every bit they can. I think, no other season intrigues, engages and uplifts me like rains.
I probably formally acknowledged my love for the first time when i moved to Mumbai. The sultriness of summer and the rains following close at heels. You just can't stop smiling when rains come in to mumbai, into the roads, the trains, the offices, your house and into your life in large pelting drops. And besides the stinky clothes that never dry, i don't think i have anything to complain.
I know this has become more about the monsoons, but my fascination with water goes beyond just rains. To rivers and seas. The sound of water flowing, cutting through all barriers and trying again and again, to take the shape given to it and continue creating it's own. The giver of life and life itself. The tiny little stream at Gonasika turns into this huge baitarani, the few drops at Gangotri turn into the mighty Ganga, across the world, the thousands of streams to the five oceans.. the lakes and the seas.. The sound of the calm river and sea, softly paddling the shores. The angry river and sea in high tide and storm, crashing against the shores- but always moving, always alive.
In activities in workshops, sometimes they ask you, what thing in nature you resemble. I have given this so much thought- and have realized, i am water, a river, taking shape, breaking shape, calm and wild, learning and growing, gathering memories and images - in search still, moving..
Yes, i want to live by water one day. To be alive.
