Skin
Clouds Walks, Flooded Cafe, Catching the Ray
“Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains.”- Henry Ward Beecher
Can you meet yourself everyday?!
Seeking a drop through life’s maze,
Entangled days, piling unsend mails,
Hurried mind, indolent soul,
Losing wings to the grey wind…
Rain paints my window glass,
Some drops, some serpentine lines,
Flowing and mingling with another
Creating mini springs, like tributaries
Meeting the morphed sea held by the sill,
Disappearing in the scheme of things….
Yes, it’s monsoon.
It’s mellow, it’s soggy,
Humidity playing music to my
paining tympanum and blurry eyes,
And I realised I haven’t written
a single rain poem yet….
Probabilities of the present,
Possibilities of the future,
Nerve numbing, vein pumping
creations —
The days I meet myself are days
which rains —
The spirit of fight
The struggle to come out a winner
To forget what’s lost or was never meant to be
Yet there’s abundance
of words,
of emotions
of beautiful conversations
Attentive minds, caressing soul,
Coming together like flamenco on fire,
The dance rain dances for you
Drumming the earth,
Rhythm caught, beat un-missed
Like nature playing Malhar*…..
.
.
.
The torrent is now a drizzle
Infusing breath to the breathless air
A sparrow wet and spiky
sits on the terrace ledge,
A little harrowed, wondering….
My vapoured glass present a vision,
A drop of water latching on a lonely cable
Hanging loosely, swaying to the passing whiff,
Defying gravity, preventing a fall
The need…the greed…the desire…
dissolve into the serene smile
of a dream….
The imagery so visceral
It rubs on your skin,
The skin of your soul,
The quiet, the tender, the drenched
Like water…..
On days I meet myself —
It rains.
Conversation Cafe: “In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.”
― Franz Kafka, Letters to MilenaMalhar or Miya Ka Malhar, the Rain Raga.
The sweetest of Ragas created by Miya Tansen.
Legend goes, when Tansen sang this raga on a scorching day, it would start to rain. And when you listen to the composition you know why.
Anybody un-introduced to Indian Classical music may find it difficult to get into the groove and grammar of it, but not when you listen to Malhar. It latches on to you from the first Jhankar ( string strumming) and by the time it reaches drut or jhala ( the end fast paced part of the composition), you can feel the rain. It is difficult not to fall for this raga, if you love the showers .The tune, the melody drowns you in its fervour — Just like the smell of first rains.Providing a piece below, which I hope you will enjoy.(Headphones for better effect)
Painting: The Chaos series: The Drenched Soul.
Smudged Watercolour (opaque) technique on cold pressed canvas & brush.
Carolyn Hastings — I think I am a little late for the rain poem, but wanted to thank you for your thoughtful Tag. But can’t go before sharing a serious dilemma of a pluviophobic in walking-in-the-rain.😊
Thank you from Soul Bay. Your visit and engaging are always a source of pleasure.
