Page 26 - magazine112.cdr

26 June 26 to July 2 : Weekly News Magazine messenger

ART

Dancing on a toe it could either be a crane
or this mad man… both in hindsight
whiling away time in wait. They smell fresh
scents of a new beginning blowing in the
air…. Cold is Old! Gurgling rivers
marching down the mountain slopes
sound of life sprouting…. there is a reason
to dance for both…. hungry, after a long
span of stillness… one for fish and the
other for the white warm fur …
Laid around in-between seasoned,
scribbled, ink stained dark Mahogany
planks is a mad king’s broken kingdom….
a hundred small fingers, arms & feet,
heads tossed in all directions, buts turned
up, boats & elephants and some carved
pediments… some half configured, some A Bumber shoot Affair…
near completion, some awaiting their
spirit… There they lie…. lined up in
bottles… some earthy, some glistening, out life from sterility …. budding, numbness to the white of the snow like
some dark like night… colorful bottles on a blooming… floras….we all are…. on these shawl …. The soft Pashmina was indeed a
remote shelf… kept aside carefully… or meandering pathways of mine…. garden of spring now… Radiant &
so…. to be poured only into the best Stravaging along the same meandering ravishing, with its meandering creepers
pieces…. These were Youth, Greatness, pathways he stumbled upon a garden on and gardens of blooming flora along the
Pride, Beauty, Valor, Elegance and another his left… Intoxicated with the sweet mellow way…. At its completion however, the man
one in some sparkling shade of yellow had scent… he entered it… was a bag of mixed feelings…. he did not
no label on it…. he said “it would attract The white almond bloom and the pink know whether to love its presence in his
wealth… and I don’t know what to call it”…. cherry blossom…. were talking to the hands or to hate its absence around him….
Another one kept slightly away was a sky… Bees, butterflies, birds only joining Out of the dream, he thought he had a
similar looking jar. It had in it the same intermittently… cross conversations… bigger challenge in front of him now….
yellow glistening potion… and no labels on lending pigments. The zeal had indeed
it … He said “it’s different… not to be begun to pull out fruits from the thin “How would I ever find a woman for a garb
mistaken… the mix has a big portion branches…. turning their faces up in like this….” Discombobulated, he rushed to
satisfaction… that meets a pinch salt to offering….green and raw. Meanwhile, on his shop…. and straight to his private
make Haze … Forgetfulness!…. makes the ground… squirrels played a squeaky chamber… where the broken kingdom lay
you a dervish… To be used stringently as game…. chase was its name… a fusillade submerged… only deeper in a layer of
there is very little left… They all need it at of voices motored by their furry tails…. dust. This probably was the only time he
some point or the other…. and I need it thrown in the air… their’s was a chase for remembered time ever. Possessed by his
more than them…” the fallen nuts, trapped in between the previous thoughts he promptly brushed
Leaving the rhapsody of his secret world in meandering of the roots… It was indeed a away some broken limbs and heads to
disarray, he steps out to a brighter room… delightful sight… anyone could loose make a clear space… Picked up a broken
The shop front… where he sits eloquently senses to. And so he thought… “How could figure and started fixing it…. The doll was
on the carpeted floor, picks up in his lap a anything born out of this stay sane…. the ready!… but it was still. Pouring juices of
half done garb….needle and threads…. drunkards of this nectar often carry it in life from his shelf…. one by one, with his
and begins picking stitch by stitch through their eyes…. they are actually almonds in impatient patience…. he surely did not
the lenses of his spectacles…The disguise…” measure…and which yellow was it
beauties… “for the beauties walking on the Fallen on the lush green ground…. in ?!?….“Never mind, both are good!”…
road”…. Barely sitting at the ridge of his contrast…. their velvety sheen looked though he dripped a few drops extra of one
nose…the glances…. stunning…. ” how could anything earthly be than the other… which one….??…. no one
so beautiful… the flowers made the know….
- – - – - – pick & drop – - – - pick & drop – - – - sunlight falling upon them look worth its Alive! …. and ready to be planted on the
– pick & drop- – - – -…………Span after existence…What else does this ball of meandering pathways…. there it goes….
span….. span after span… orange and golden heat rise and fall for A sigh of relief, a drop of sweat… left him…
Wah! Wah! The meandering threads and everyday…. not to fall upon the ugliness and he left the chamber…
how they look decorated only when some and make it stark…. no, no, no!” Sitting eloquently on his carpeted wooden
bloom is scattered on them… the terrain of floor… blowing puffs of smoke in air…
my shawls… Pashm! Soft as flakes of “Sun must rise only to shine upon beauties Dhug……..Dhug….dhug…dhugdhugdddh
newborn snow….white… Kashmir has like these….. ” hugggg…dhgdhh….
shown affinity towards… Undoubtedly!…. Eyes staring out from the frames…
for the serene elegance it covers And in his silken chain of thoughts he pick & drop…. pick & drop…. pick &
everything in… it is cold and soft at the passed off… into a sweet slumber…. for drop….woma fo garb… woma fo garb…
same time…. And in time, the surface lets Hours? Days? Months? OR YEARS???…. woma fo garb…“Hello!” came a voice…
out what it has always been holding who knows…. Those deft hands lay Face luminous like blazing Sun…
beneath… A bumbershoot of colorful life…. discomposed… the threads and the fabric
it’s a boon for man for having born through alongside…… And when he finally woke “Salaam!”
its cold hostilities for so long… A present up… he had in his hands, ‘The Garden!’ “You sure have risen for my spring
called Spring… has arrived! itself… garden….” Said the Almond eyed man…
And that’s how man’s perseverance pulls He had absorbed it and passed it on in his