It has been three years of off and on Haiku. I learned by myself and participated online in blog contests. My book “A Walk with Nature” self published in 2013, carried a bunch of good ones.
Every moment is precious as I think of reasons behind these pieces. Each brings memories of life experiences in terms of relations, seasons, meditation, culture, and events. Purposely there are few places to go back but when I can or do, there is a sense to conclude something.
There is whole eternity staring and from which I start sometimes afresh, sometimes creatively but never as from a loss of deluge. Heart trembles from this silence. Is this going anywhere?
Today, a thought occurred as I sat for work. There is light or flame I should hold up to and take to where I could, eventually I will understand the purpose too.
I remembered reading Ruskin Bond earlier before initiating into writing career. The closer and intricate narrative of bonding with nature by the author in “The Book of Nature” always brought back cherished memories of my childhood. However as my sense of belonging involve self interest waxing into subtleties of nature the scope of understanding of the author’s work also acquired another dimension.
I could see how a writer spans one’s life for the love one has fallen into (the world of writing). To read again differently his work, tears well up in my eyes. There is nothing that distinguishes our random association and selfless love to Mother Nature in this fragile environment more proper than this.
An Excerpt from the book
“It was not looking towards me but had its head thrust attentively forward in the direction of the ravine. It must have sensed my presence because it slowly turned its head and looked down at me. It seemed a little puzzled at my presence there, and when, to give myself courage, I clapped my hands sharply, the leopard sprang away into the thickets making absolutely no sound as it melted into the shadows. I had disturbed the animal in its quest of food. But a little later I heard the quickening cry of a barking deer as it fled through the forest-the haunt was still on.”
We are altogether generations apart, his stories matching the valor of my grandpa and older kin and now in age of news where everyone falls to minute seconds of shadowy disappearances. However, the nature tales keeps me afloat as a river, there has to be a way even if it goes to meet an ocean.
Thanks Mr. Ruskin Bond.