Cyclone Alert/ Urban Story/ Writing Life

Academy of Silence

Vacant Cloud, Hush Cafe, Catching the Ray

Silenced memory of a storm, Photo_Nefelibata.in © Monoreena

I heard the silence roar
rumbling like a wayward thunder
emanating from empty roads and
neighbourhoods
it’s aroma balming the air with tranquil
spreading like burnt camphor

It flew past my empty balcony
smiling through my laptop
my nowhere-gaze
my misspelt words
my willing isolation

Probably your’s too —

A magpie perched on my balcony
looks inside
transparencies of that window glass
and me
trapped, silence like music, tapping
my cerebellum

Outside the trees are hanging like old men
tormented by a raging night
wind whistling by
like nature in pressure cooker

yet in peace nourished by early rain
green and glossy

A half spun gossamer thread fluttering
in the wind — grit of a spider undone
small urban poodles, the breading ground
for future generation of mosquitos

And sun calling early adieu taking away
laughter from my bones

Let me not surrender to this ‘silence’ revolution outside….

Let me hum the tune
of the humming earth
cuckoos by day, crickets by night

The buzz word not work, but ‘words’
as it came pouring like monsoon’s blues
summer rain, winter warmth
cascading through my misty mind
Almond latte days, poetry-filled nights
they came flooding through
my tangled hair coiled in my stiff fingers
that scented candle penetrating memories
tired din of the exhausted rain outside
my existence benign

And the words find me
probably you too….

Taking a walk between the walls of
my solitude
Meditating with my quiescent mind,
diving deep into my loner self —

The silence now belongs to me
now, I belong to the academy of silence

When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.”― Ansel Adams, Photo_Nefelibata.in © Monoreena

How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here forever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

News on spread: Forecast and aftermath of a Cyclone.
Remal came and went leaving some kindness for humanity.
How within a night an urban milieu translates into an atmosphere of hushed hill stations.
Grey, gloomy days, mercury drops, held breath for ensuing damage.
With damage pegged at minimum, summer leaving early the city has subsided into a uncomfortable silence, every breath wanting to ask ,”What if”…..
Sometimes the idea of loss has deeper penetration than the actual, and how the imaginary bombards our sanity than ‘the’ real.
People on the fringe who came second to nature’s rage are being rehabilitated with quick speed.

P.S — I was so busy following the magpie I forgot to take a photo — Sorry!
In the mean time my stormy musings continue……

Today’s music presentation is by Pt. Budhaditya Mukherjee, where he creates an ambience of thunderstorm with his Sitar and Raga Miyan ki Malhar under Darbar’s banner.
May all your inside storm see peace. Enjoy & Have a good day!

Pt. Budhaditya Mukherjee in Sitar for Darbar, playing Raga Miyan ki Malhar