Skip to main content

Norfolk Pine

Norfolk Pine tree soaking up the rain delightedly at our garden

Popular posts from this blog

Global village

Global village. This term may connect continents divided by sea, countries, remote regions and far-off villages. But it has also reduced the world to one big road. A road which has no beginning, no end. We travel, travel and travel. We reach places at half the time we took some years ago. We save time. We save money. But...

A few years ago, our journey to faraway places took hours and sometimes days. We got the feel of each town or city on the way as we passed through. We knew the shops, restaurants, the way people dressed and the way they behaved.

Some townspeople were mild and polite, while some others were rude. Some were straight-forward while others were cunning. We even guessed which town they came from by their body language and behaviour. It was fun. We got to taste each city's unique food as our vehicle or bus stopped for break. I was quite fond of the yummy-smelling dosa in Shimoga or Maddur vada or goli baje in Dakshina Kannada.

Now, if we wish for those scenes and foo…

A weed's life

I planted some rose bushes, a few aloe vera and chrysanthemum plants. All of them died. Then I, very ambitiously, planted a butter fruit seed. It lost its life after growing to be a healthy plant of about my height when somebody decided it was a mere weed and stifled it with heaps of dry twigs and leaves.
Thus ended my gardening. I wondered how weeds grew so abundantly without any added nutrition or care in the same soil.
It was only yesterday that I could think of a reason. The weeds were free. They grew where they wanted, when they liked. No human conditioned their growth. The soil was theirs, the water and the sun.
We plant a seed with love, take care of it with love.
But I realise now that freedom is infinitely more necessary than love.


ನಮ್ಮ ಪಕ್ಕದಲ್ಲೇ ಓಡಿ ಓಡಿಯೂ ನಮ್ಮನ್ನು ಮುಟ್ಟಲಾಗದೆ ಹಿಂದುಳಿದ ಮರಗಳು, ಒಂಟಿ ದೋಣಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕೂತು ಓಡುತ್ತಿರುವ ರೈಲನ್ನೆ ನೋಡುತ್ತಾ ತನ್ನೊಳಗೇ ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದಂತಿರುವ ಮೀನುಗಾರ, ಟ್ರೇನು ಯಾಕಿನ್ನು ಬರಲಿಲ್ಲವೆಂದು ಪದೇ ಪದೇ ಇಣುಕಿ ನೋಡುವ ಪ್ರಯಾಣಿಕ, ಒಳಗೆ ಕೂತು ಹೊರಗಿನ ಪ್ರಪಂಚವನ್ನು ತನ್ನ ಆಲೋಚನೆಗಳಿಗೆ ಸರಿತೂಗಿಸಿ ನೋಡುವಾಗಲೇ ಚಾದರ ಹೊದಿಸಿದ ಹಾಗೆ ಮೇಲೆ ಬೀಳುವ ಕತ್ತಲು.
ಟ್ರೇನ್ ಹತ್ತಿ ಮೂರು ವರ್ಷಗಳಾದವು. ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಸಿಗುವ ಕತೆ, ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿಚಿತ್ರಗಳು ನನ್ನನ್ನು ಯಾವಾಗಲೂ ಕಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದವು. ಬಾಗಿಲ ಹತ್ತಿರ ಬೀಸುವ ಗಾಳಿಗೆ ಮುಖವೊಡ್ಡಿ ಗಂಟೆಗಟ್ಟಲೆ ಹರಟುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆವು. ಎದುರು ಕೂತವರನ್ನೆಲ್ಲ ಪರಿಚಯಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಕೆಲಸಕ್ಕೆ ಬಾರದ ವಿಷಯಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಗಂಭೀರವಾಗಿ ಚರ್ಚಿಸಿ ಎಲ್ಲರಿಗೂ ಬೋರ್ ಹೊಡೆಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆವು. ಮದುವೆಯಾಗಿ 5 ವರ್ಷಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ನಾವು Jab we met ಸ್ಟೈಲ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಓಡಿ ಬಂದು ಹೊರಟ ಟ್ರೇನ್ ಹತ್ತಿದ್ದೇ ಹೆಚ್ಚು. ಅದೂ ಒಂದು ಚೆಂದದ ನೆನಪು.
ಈಗ ಮತ್ತೆ ಎಲ್ಲ ನೆನಪಾಗುತ್ತಿದೆ.