It must have been raining lately, the cold breeze still carries the smell of earth, the soil looks soaked and slippery, my bare foot could feel the earth; those sharp little stones, the dew drops on the grass, the watery soil, I could feel them all. My feet is covered with the dark brown mud looks synonymous with the ground beneath. I decide to take a brief walk into the woods, a walk into the mist, a walk into the fading afternoon, a walk from the farm house to the far end. I come to the end of our farm land and the little corner stone turns into my throne.I look all around and there are no humans in sight, all I could see are little shimmering grass insects nearby, the peacocks stealing grains on the distant lands, and a few rain bearing clouds far above. It has just been a few minutes since I started writing all these. I am writing these on an age old diary filled with few strands of mustard colored paper, I am writing these sitting beneath a lonely tree which still sizzles with the last drops of rain, I am writing these after a few tears and a long gush of silence.
The little piece of farm land on which I am sitting now, and the long stretch of coconut grooves through which I had walked are the last remaining evidences of an age old family heritage.This is the same place that my great grand fathers bought with their hard earned money, this is the same place where my grandma ploughed years back, this is the same place where my mom played games in her childhood, this is the place where my memories are preserved and delivered fresh. Days from a not so distant past start pouring in, the days when my grandpa carried me on his shoulders all the way and spoke stories in my little ears, the day when I finally brought the same grandpa who had by them lost his walk and sight, I still remember the tears he shed hugging a tree, I remember the day when I found the ancient British coin hidden beneath the soil, I remember the evenings in the summer when we chased peacocks, the fearful nights when we changed lanes for the flowing water, the countless coconuts we drank, the snake that we killed, the ripe old man who made sheets out of the coconut leaves, I exactly remember the evening of the red sun when Uncle, Arun(my bro) and I walked hand in hand. A little wind has just blown from the north, the tree has just shed a tiny droplet of water on the paper. I scan the diary. The date on the left reads "April 7", I search for the year and the outer cover reads "Executive diary 1994".A beautiful coincidence, I too was there sometime. I very much belong to the 90's, in a way we all belong to the 90's. We are the 90's people.
The clouds are turning gray, it may rain anytime now, let me move to a safer distance. come walk with me.......A little walk has now taken me to the well, the well which once watered the entire land mass, the well where my uncles had their swimming classes, the well which still holds the last breath of many, the well which has been here for centuries and seen empires rise and fall, the well in which the moon sleeps in the night. I throw a little stone into it and after a long pause i hear the stone hitting the water deep beneath.I hear a sound, the voice of the well, it is mystic, it is like the groan of a long forgotten soul. I am back at the woods amidst the coconut trees. I see a few hundreds of them all lined in a pattern as if they are attending a mass. I remember my mom saying that these were planted in the same year when Arun was born. In a way we are brothers of some kind.We have seen each other grow up from innocence, growing up into complexity.I just lie quiet on the ground between my brothers, it reminds me of the slumber I had in my primitive womb.
The time is half past six, it has already started drizzling, the feeble light is fading in front of the eye, the little stone under the lonely tree is filled with gloom, the place looks serene and eerily poetic, the frogs creep and the peacocks screech, my little heaven is getting ready for the night. I finally reach toward my favorite tree in the entire groove, the one as a result of some infection has this bent trunk like an 'L', the one with the most unique look in the entire lot, the one on which i used to glide and play as a kid, the one which is very close to my heart.I touch him, he responds by shaking the huge leaves, he could sense my presence he knows that there is this friend from the good old times,he feels warm, I lay myself on his shoulders, I become a child again. Just like a cattle tied to the pole, I think we are all tied to our childhood memories we always graze for life near the pole of childhood.I close my eyes, i could feel the ecstasy and at this very moment I don't value wealth coz I know that even a few crores cant match the sweetness of a coconut, I don't fear death coz I know that My best days were already lived.
The lightning suddenly illuminates into the darkness.The long wait is over, it has started raining! The rain is dropping all over me, a few have managed to touch the paper. I am still not sure if I am gonna search for a shelter or if I am gonna get myself drenched. But it feels good to stand here, the rain, the woods, the grass, the lil birds, the soaked feet, i feel like becoming a part of very nature.It feels good, just like reading the very last line of a lovely book.
The rain is getting heavy, I gotta close the diary now. My journal ends here.