I sit still, slowly and deeply i start feeling the sun. Like thousand of needles gently poking into the skin, the sun light touches me. I wish it tried to speak with me, tell me stories of evolution, stories of the earth, secrets about god, secrets about its earnest silence. But we both decide to enjoy the anonymity. Right from my early days sun has been my elixir, it has always accompanied my journey. As a kid i was allured by its charm, I used to stand hours beneath the scorching sun. The magical chemistry it performs deep inside the soul can’t be put in mere words. The warmth of the evening sun has the power to seduce whatever comes by its way. I remember the summer holidays at my grandma’s village, those were beautiful days. The village was filled with the sun, the farmland, the coconut grooves, the petty shops, the innocent faces, the ancient houses, all looked more beautiful under the gaze of the sun. In the summer sun light dawns an artist role and the ordinary village streets look better than the masterpiece of Da Vinci. Sun light is straight forward, it is honest, its discerning and it brings with it a lot of clarity, it is the best succor for humanity. I remember this poem i read some days back "காதல் பகலைப்போன்றதே! காமம் இரவைப்போன்றதே!"(Love is what the day is!, lust is what the night is!) and I couldn’t find any better explanation for love and lust.
I imagine about living a life like the lonely tree that stands atop the hill. Like a saint it goes through all the four seasons of Mother Nature. Winter, summer, autumn and spring all means the same to it, it has no complaints and it doesn’t go out carping. Its sagacity and indolence remind me of a lonely sage. If i am the tree, then this is my summer!. The season has filled a vacuum in me, the days are a bit dry, so is the living. But i have no regrets, this season too.. will pass by. The sun in these days has made me revisit the Mr.grey in me. I am in the middle of this fight between all my goodness and all my madness. The black and white in me converge with will full ferocity and I end up becoming an ocean filled with grey blood. The grayness makes me belong everywhere, to all the good and all the bad, to all of humanity and suddenly i feel like god.. And the age old question arises in me again. Where do I unbelong? is it to the breeze or the storm?, is it to the god or the devil? , is it to the wisdom or the reality?, is it to the love or the lust? is it to the loner or the lively ? , is it to the geek or the nerd ? , is it to the conscience or the convention? is it to the boy or to the man ? , is it to the ‘?’ or the ‘!’....
The sun is setting. the bright yellow is to be replaced by the blustering brown. My friend is retiring for the day, he has made me scribble all this. And at times i find the scribble is mystic with its meaningless patterns but still exploring in deep these scribbles make up the most of me, just like the art of modern times this scribble is void of hypocrisy, void of conventions and void of desires. What I write is what I want to be but, what I scribble is what I am. In a few moments from now my windows will be wide open, soon the air will be filled with the enigma of the song "shadow of the day”, soon the gentle evening breeze will caress me like an angel and soon I will be lost in sight of the retiring day and will be slowly sailing into the state of oblivion.
I Got to go! Bye.