Word Potrait #6 The Girl on the rope

It was a summer day . The usual bus ride seemed longer. A torture. When I finally entered the car my head was still spinning over the unfair weather condition . Thoughts raced from global warming to my failings … but yea I wanted to pin it all on the weather.The feeling of discomfort and resentment shone on my sweaty face.
I meticulously engaged in weaving a web of these musings as the sweat slowly dying as the car’s air conditioning took over .

I was still nestling and wrestling these thoughts when I spotted her . On a tight rope . In the summer heat. Her knees bend over and resting on a copper plate balanced on the rope strung between two bamboo poles. Her ankles shining in the heat. Her toes gripping the rope. She held a bamboo stick to embrace her centre of gravity as her head balanced a couple of metal pots stacked one over other.

She slowly rhythmically pushed the plate( her knees were bent on) ahead over the rope. There was music I guess but I was deaf to it. I couldn’t think anymore. She had no expression on her face. I felt she had no face.Just the brown baked skin melting in the merciless heat .

She made me feel insanely rich at the same time robbed me of the luxury to complain ….. and pin everything on the weather.


Word Potrait # 4.. Lady in the morning.

It was early morning . I was sipping morning green tea. My eyes exploring the greenery around and ears soaking in the quiet of the morning.

My wandering eyes settled on a person standing on the large window in a multi-storey appartment building. She stood shifting all her weight on one leg and the other bent on the knee resting on the window sill . Her hands hanging out from the window as she observed the morning. The soft green and pink stripes on her night dress stood in stark contrast with her body language. There was no softness about her. She had the looks of a hard task master . Of someone who would test a situation well and not accept defeat without a good fight. She wasn’t bothered by the lack of a feminine curves and was so well at ease with her rotund form . All she exuded was an air of confidence and awe.

Some might shrug and dismiss her as a middle age overweight lady . Somehow I failed to do that. Perhaps it was her stance and ease with which she exposed herself to be observed, while she tasted the early morning breeze , that made me think differently.

Word Potrait #3 The boy at the tea stall

A roadside shabby tea stall with wooden benches for the customers. Plastic cups strewn over the grass.

It was a glimpse.

A thirteen year old boy sat on one of those benches. His face turned sideways to the road and his legs in khaki pants parallel to the bench . He was hunched a bit with his hands holding the bench like he was drowning at the sea and it was like a board that could keep him afloat. The expression on his face was unique and his milk tea complexion made it even more striking. His eyes droopy, almost half closed with a distant gaze. As if some deep worry dwelled in his heart or perhaps he was actually seeing beyond the chaos of this mundane life.

The mystery of his face drew me hard into that moment… like Mona Lisa’s smile has drawn in centuries.I could think he was worried or totally serene all at once .It seemed as if innocence had transitioned into wisdom in a single moment . Or may be my mind was conjuring …it was but just a glimpse .