Important..please read before continuing

The more serious posts are at the beginning of the blog. I ran out of good topics and started doodling :P
Unfortunately, they aren't written as well as the later posts. . .
Your choice

PS: It surprises me, how I have to validate every single thing I do. I mean, there was absolutely no reason for me to write this note, and even less, to write this postscript, or the postpostscript, that i will write after this one. Maybe, I do not like being misinterpreted. or maybe if there's any criticism that needs to be dished out, i'd rather do it myself.Or maybe i'm just a megalomaniac who wants to be all encompassing and always in a position to say: 'I told you so', even if the 'so' is some inherent flaw in me :P

PPS: Or maybe i just have too much free time, writing long posts to an imaginary audience. . . .

PPPS: Wait, that would be megalomania. . .

Friday, July 23, 2010

Imagery Orgy

A house. . . on the side of a hill made of red rock, dusty and sparsely dotted with green. . . . A river at the bottom sparkling and clear.. . . . A thicket of trees on the other bank, stretching for miles, as far as the eye can see, and almost as far as the mind can imagine. . . . A few miles in the distance,on the same side of the river, a farmhouse, full of cows and sheep, dogs and ducks.. . . men tossing hay and matronly women bustling around, throwing corn to the hens, meat to the dogs and turning a side of bacon on the stove. . . The bacon sizzles, the smell wafting out of the window, floating for miles, hitting the nose of a vagabond. . . . He closes his eyes, inhales deeply and grasps his guitar. . . His fingers move on the fretboard, almost as if controlled by some magic. .. the notes ring through the air. . . A dog, hot in pursuit of a rabbit, pauses and cocks his head. . .He whines in pleasure. . . . The rabbit escapes. . . .running into a hole. . . His whiskers quivering, he continues to run, his heart beating faster than his feet., his ears pressed against his head. . .



He jumps out of the hole, still nervous. . . but now convinced that the danger is past. . . He runs through the underbrush, and emerges into a clearing. . . .Surrounded on all sides by trees, one gets the eerie feeling that, any moment now, faeries will emerge from the forest laughing and carrying tankards of pink lemonade(or prosecco(couldn't decide !)) and chocolate filled cookies. . .. There are a couple of dandelions on the floor.... . . 1 o' clock ! 2 o' clock ! 3 o' clock! and all the seeds are off . . . . One of them, goes higher than the rest . . . buffetted by the winds. . . Suddenly, a bird swoops towards it, with every intention to seek and destroy ( and not recon and report !) The seed floats a bit lower, as if afraid (but actually it's the pressure change, due to the bird's dash in the seed's direction !!) It's fears (!) are however dissipated, as another bird, swoops upon the former . . . In the ensuing struggle, the seed floats lower and lower, escaping attention and capture. . . .

Lower and lower it goes, till it falls into a river. . . floating gently on the surface. . . . it travels further downstream and gets stuck in some black sticky substance. . . . Industrial effluents, the waters almost scream. . . Dead fish. . . . Birds with their wings stuck. . .Squawking angrily, and flapping desperately. . . A young girl with braces and pigtails looks at the river in astonishment, her eyes widening under her thick spectacles. . . She takes some pictures and starts scribbling in a little notebook she has with her. . . The chemical plant is at the edge of a big town. . . People are walking about on the town square, some of them yawning and rubbng their eyes, The sunny cobbled streets take one back in time, to a time that was less complicated, more simple. . . more happy even, one would think. . . But then the grass is always greener. . . .

Somewhere above, one sees a man with a grey beard and oval spectacles in rumpled grey nightclothes peering through a telescope. . . He looks vaguely familiar. . . The telescope shows him a house. . . . on the side of a red rocky hill near a river. . . .The curtains of the upper room are thrown open . . .


The man in the bed, groans. . . A cool soft hand touches him on the cheek. . . . He smiles and looks through his lashes to see it. . .an angel framed by a forest on the opposite bank of a glittering river of gold. . . . . . . . .


I wake up . . . . . .


Damn !


PS: Damnation !

PPS: **Tantrum **

2 comments:

  1. The way you allow your imagination to take flight when you write, is simply amazing Sumedh. Have I told you before? I'm one of your biggest fans, when it comes to your writing ability.Have recommended your blog to a number of our students who also like writing, just to give them a taste of how writing should allow a person to just freely express every thought that comes to mind.At the same time, how reading autiomatically enhances ones vocabulary.You are a role-moedel to so many younger Boscoites, who know you through your writing and are really impressed.

    Keep writing! It's a joy to read your blog, every time.

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  2. this post made me the dandelion seed floating along the current of wind or water wherever you chose to take me!marvellous!

    ReplyDelete