Monday, December 19, 2016

The Old Man's Laughter

'Why do we have mountains grandpa?'
For the little creature who looked at the world around as if it was arranged just for her wholly by her grandfather, it wasn't an odd question at all. It was as natural as asking why they always had rice for dinner in the night.

The old man who never bothered to run behind her had surprisingly sharp ears for his age to catch the squeaky voice that traveled from a few feet ahead of him. 'Well, to push the rivers down all the way to the oceans I suppose. '

' But we don't have any rivers. ' she said tugging at his arm playfully after having ran back to where he was walking. She loved his huge arm and her eyes used to become a magnifying lens of their own and examine the complex web of wrinkles. She was always full of awe at how every hair on his body was pure shining white. She never asked him his age. Somehow she knew deep within that he was one thousand years old. That's what she had told her friend. Her friend didn't believe it ofcourse. But then there was no way to make him believe because he would never come when grandpa was around. Or anybody else for that matter. But when she had told them about her friend, it was only her grandpa who believed that he really existed and that he also had wings with which he could fly.

The old man didn't answer. Not because he ignored what she said. He had learned that not all questions are there to be answered. Some questions can live on their own. They don't need an answer to resolve themselves. They are independent. Appearing and disappearing and floating around by their own free will.

They were about to reach the stream where he liked to sit. A helpless smile appeared on his face as he saw what an effect the stream always has on his granddaughter. Even before it came into sight, she would run around, spin around him making him sing all the silly songs that she made up herself. Through her tiny hands pulling him, he used to feel the rush of the cool refreshing touch of water. It was as if the stream used to call him in her sweet impatience. Nobody could make out whether what appeared on his face was a smile or a tear drop. It was in her, years ago that he had found a lasting relief as he let go the few remains of his broken heart. In her cool, refreshing touch that kissed his feet, there was a world to remember and a world to forget.
He sat on the rock, leaving his feet to the water. As he closed his eyes, he could feel his feet flow with the stream, while his head floated up to the chirping birds and the whispering leaves.

After some time he could feel her sitting next to him. She had been back since a while. But she couldn't call him or tug at his arm as she would do otherwise. She waited watching swarms of tiny fish swim around his feet. The moment he opened his eyes, she poured the treasure that she had gathered into his hands. This was something they did everytime they came to the stream and he knew how much she looked forward to it. He would pick up the most interesting of the pebbles and tell her a story around it. She loved the stories. She also waited for the day, when she would find a magic pebble. A truly magical one. She knew he was only person in the world who could identify it if it was found.

Not all the stories that he started had an end. Sometimes it would go into a different story altogether. A story within a story. It was hard to keep track. Sometimes it used to become too complex. 'I think it's getting late!', is what he would say in such cases. She knew he was making it up and didn't really know what to say next. But she would never say it to him. She loved him and didn't want to see him not knowing what to say. 'he knows everything!' is what she had told her friend. 

Today the story was of the mountains. But he was tired and it wouldn't go too far. But her mind was still in the mountain top.
'Why is our mountain bald grandpa? '
' Because it is old. And wise like me ? ', he said burying the last word under a huge bout of laughter.
Her twinkling eyes looked at him,wanting him to stop.' Why do you laugh like that. I get scared! ', she screamed wrapping her arms around him in a desperate effort to feel that he's still there. She had a huge fear that he might just go with his tumultuous laughters one day and never come back.
He looked at her worrying eyes and couldn't help another bout of laughter till tears rolled down. She touched his cheek in a playfully curious way, as his body stopped quaking and settled after the laugh. He beamed at her, his eyes shining. It was these moments which came many times after his bouts of laughter that she felt they spoke without words. Their eyes flowed into each other like rivers.
'Will I laugh like you one day? ', she asked, her voice not of a child anymore, strangely steady and full of meaning.
' Who knows? '. The remaining smile on his face faded like the fading of a rainbow. He looked up at the sky as if his eyes could see stars even in the day.
' Your eyes shine of the most purest wonder. And you can dance and giggle. When they take that away from you, you will learn to hope and dream. And it will put a smile on your face that people around you will envy. When they take that away, you can dig deeper and you will find your tears. Make sure you don't drop them just anywhere. Come around to this stream even if I am not around and offer your tears to this stream for all that it has given us, will you? '
He waited for her to nod before he continued.
' When you are about to become old, walk up these bald mountains. They know how to laugh. You know why he's bald? He laughed so much one day that it shook off all the trees at the top. ', and he laughed loudly once again.
' see, that's how even I lost my hair! '
And he tickled her. She squealed in laughter and shouted,' and your teeth too! '.
He pointed to the only one tooth in the front that was left,' but this one is refusing to fall. It makes me look ugly. Will you make me laugh hard enough so that it goes away? ',he said as he got up.

It was time to go. She ran up ahead. That one tooth did make him look terrible she thought. But she loved him and it didn't matter.

The sky tired of holding up the day for so long was dripping with colours of unfathomable beauty and far off in the village the smoke from the chimneys had begun tracing a way right upto where the stars would be popping out. In those moments which are always cruelly brief where the earth meets the sky and the day meets the night, the old man and his little granddaughter walked hand in hand back towards their home.

Friday, December 16, 2016

Hiding Place

Come down here following the trail. A trail that cannot be spotted by eyes. Hang your eager breath onto it and then watch the beating of your heart to know where to turn. I have left the silk veil open. Walk in before it is lost, into the untrodden path where footprints disappear.

Come down here where the stream slows down. Lingers playfully as if no one is watching. This is the hiding place where all things of magic are yet to learn how to be shy.

Remember the time you couldn't say that which couldn't be contained? We wondered where it went the next day. This is where it came and has been ever since. Listen to this silence that trembles on trembling lips just before that which cannot be said is lost in words. Here it floats like a mist  growing thicker dissolving even the mountains.

No one knows we are here. And yet, here we are.