Ideas tussle to come forth, jostling for my attention. But busyness keeps me on my toes to pay heed to them. Finally, when I do sit in front of the laptop, they turn frigid and decide to abandon me, in retaliation. I mull on helplessly, as my thoughts suddenly seem to have gone into hibernation. I stare at the static page and it glares back at me with a mean coldness. My fingers go numb as I make a desperate attempt to type on the frozen keys. With no choice, I wait for the inclement weather to pass, in hope that tomorrow’s sunshine will thaw the frosty barrenness from my mind’s creative corner.
Monsoon bells ring in the month of August, as the entire Indian peninsula is under a cloud cover. The country revels, as pellets of rains kiss the parched earth, providing much relief from the sweltering heat that saps all energy. Fresh organic landscapes replace the arid barren plains. The insipid leaves indulge in an emerald green makeover, insects cavort around in trilling conversations, meandering rivers swell with gushing pride, pastures hide under a lush grassy duvet, farmers send in a prayer of gratitude and romantic hearts drench in amorous reverie. Man and nature rejoice, under the magical spell of the rains.
I look out of the window and I am mesmerised by the sight that beholds me. My eyes feast on an expanse of pearly opulence, studded with iridescent streaks. The snow clad serrated peaks, reflect in a contemplative mood. A rainbow ribbon swirl, wraps the billowy clouds to form an enigmatic pattern in the twilight sky. Its prismatic reflection gleams on the lake. The icy winds hum a frosty tune, lining the landscape with crystalline confetti. Beams of silver moonlight make a glistening motif on earth’s alabaster bosom. Nature’s heartbeat echoes, in all its resplendent winter glory.
City life today embroils man in an urban mess. His mind clamors against the stress, adding to the din. He buckles under the overwhelming burden of his pregnant thoughts. Fatigue overpowers his listless body. As the energy saps to rock bottom, he decides to take a travel break.
Wandering far, the mystic mountains beckon him. He follows his inner navigational guide to a serene nook in the lap of nature. Meditating there, opens new vistas of the spiritual realm to him. The mist of veil surrounding his clogged mind clears, infusing it with bright sunshine. The inner awakening ignites the psychic inter dimensional vibrations in him. He surrenders to the cosmic call, spends his life in spiritual nirvana.
Basking in the lap of material success,
the hollowness of life haunts him.
Delving inward, a reflective mood envelopes
the law of karma, plays its role
the fragile mind is empowered by divine grace
the soul revels in a sublime yet glorious trance!
Haibun is a Japanese genre of combining prose with poetry. The key to the art of haibun is the graceful pairing of poem and prose, where the poem links to the prose yet shifts away from it.
In response to Colleen’s weekly tanka challenge # 80, to use the synonyms only of the prompt words Soft & Gather.
I step out to witness a picturesque seasonal transition, one autumn morning. The porch is enveloped in a vibrant carpet of yellow and crimson leaves . The cool breeze caresses and whispers to them, sweet nothings. Coyly smiling, they sway under the cloudy sky, whispering secret messages, finally cascading to create a rustling harmony.
The bet is to watch a horror movie versus a romantic one. I am so confident of winning the bet with my friend that I do not think twice before agreeing to the same. Alas, now I curse my luck on losing the bet. I am compelled to watch a horror movie in the cinema with her. The thought is already giving me jitters and sleepless nights. Donning a brave facade, I accompany her. The movie has a sinister touch to it. Somehow I manage to sit through most of it. As the climax unfolds, I can literally hear my own heart pounding. Trepidation grips me. I am petrified and surrender to complete panic and fear.
Cleaning the cupboard this morning, I glance upon some old albums. Since the onset of digital cameras, the old pictures simply have been lying inside for a long time. Glad to have some leisure time at hand, I decide to walk down the memory lane with the many photo albums. Wiping off the fine layer of dust settled on them, I sit back to enjoy the journey ,which house a treasure trove of memories.
Many questions haunt me often. Who am I ? What is my purpose in life? Am I Radhika, the daughter, wife, mother or is there any other identity to myself. They intrigue me. There is a mystic aura that envelopes the phrases such as Karma, destiny, spirituality etc. I try in vain to find answers to these baffling questions through books, gurus, experiences, meditation. In the cosmic wilderness, the earth is a mere dot. Within that dot, we are the millions of nano specks, the inhabitants of the planet. So how minuscule is my identity in this universe?
I get into an indulgent mood and decide to do some baking. The apron clings on to me. As I gently caress the creamy butter and sugar, they blend into pristine silkiness. The flour, eggs and vanilla crumble in together. The whisk romantically flirts around and takes them on a spin. In goes some spice to enhance the flavour. Delicate hands bind them tenderly and shape them with care. Lined perfectly, they are all set to get ignited to the heat and passion of the oven. The wait, now gets restless. Finally out comes the perfectly baked cookies. I dust them with sprinkling of sugar and they are all set to be tasted.
Haibun is a prosimetric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and frequently includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal.
Excitement mounts as I set out on a holiday to the mountains. Driving along, I marvel at the artistic expertise with which nature paints itself across the varying landscapes. From the vivid golden hue across the horizon to a somber silvery grey, nearing the hills. The slight drizzle drapes itself in a smoky embrace along the valley.
Fog veils the mountains
in a misty silver gown
the clouds kiss the peak
gentle breeze ambles along
to reveal a blushing bride.
I go on a clicking spree to capture the alluring facets of its mesmerizing beauty. My eyes feast on the kaleidoscope of nature’s charisma, while my heart soaks in the tranquil and serene peace of the mountains.
I have used the synonym fog in place of smoke in the tanka.
Haibun is a prosimetric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku/tanka. The range of haibun is broad and frequently includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal.