as the dusk spread through the northern sky, spilling orange over the Annapurna range, air became thicker with mist and the waft of marigold deepened inside it. Long after, night lay its blanket over the sky, one could still smell the lingering rush of marigold on one's hair.
a bunch of lantana bulbs lay lazing on the meadows, sun-bathing perhaps, unapologetic of all liberty sun was taking with their lovely pink petals.
as the greenliness is deepening in the grape-fruit skins, the winter has officially arrived here. the unruly, virgin wildness of Seti River has given its way to a calmer, more feminine self. the pulsating romance of monsoon is slowly disintegrating into the rustle of sun-dried leaves. the whole nature is gravitating towards its center, recoiling into its ownself, after the rush of monsoon.
I alone stood heavy amidst the thicks of lazy lantana hedge, echoing words from the distant lands of Men, myriad desire and ambitions fermenting in my brains, till it liquefied and consumed me into dull intoxication. its sad how deeply civilization has wronged humanity. how helplessly we yield to its mechanism of converting human into humanoids. Long before one realizes, we are already processed into the humanoids, who have no independent self of thier own - everybody wants the same car, same piece of plot on some urbanscape, same old escape into "happy marriage" .............rotting helplessly in the labyrinth of someone else's dream.
sitting silently in the Buddhafield, drinking the roars of the river with the pores of my body, i feel a certain health seep back into me. Rivering with the river, partaking in its joy ride, a subtle process of osmosis reverberates deep joy into me too. I had just finished translating this piece of article on Buddhafield by Osho, where he explains how communes womb that energy field, whose presence alone can nourish your soul.
staying alone with the river at the commune, I traced the roots of infinite maladies in my mind and soul, some of which left nodules and knots in my muscles. here, standing face to face in an unavoidable confrontation with all the malaise, I realized how urgent is the message of meditation to the world.
the riverbed was supple with rich humus deposit from monsoon. Everyday, before sun diluted the dark of the night with its orange rays, people steal the humus and mineral kissed stones from its bed, yet no one can robe the river of its intrinsic richness. Giving away everything it has, nourishing the parched earth, supplying moisture to clouds in distant ether, bathing lonely trees on fields, pulsating minerals into the roots of the plants - river stayed as rich as ever.
when i left the river, the air was full of something intimately beautiful - red, round, sweet. as the wind rustled through the giant fig tree, I wasn't bust "creating" happiness in future, I was participating in it, here now!
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