Mar 24, 2014

Notes from a road trip: the sky

We sit on the swing, gently pushing it to create a sense of air flow in an otherwise still evening.  Swatting occasionally at the vagrant houseflies. The stories flow easily of a life past and hopes ahead, the easy banter that forms a bridge between acquaintances and friendship. The light is slowly melting away beyond the wind carved bronze boulders that frame Hampi. It is surreal to say the least, boulder upon boulder, heaped up precariously on edge, as if in anticipation of that final push before they tumble.


And from deep within that oncoming darkness, the moon peeps out from behind a cloud. At first, a little tentative like a playful child being introduced to the world. The conversation hushes down while the night stirs from its stillness with the steady chirping of the crickets. And slowly as the clouds drift, the moon emboldened, reveals itself. The act of sitting there, looking at the moon rise up gently over the darkening paddy fields has a sense of being lost in time. Time as a concept in that moment marked only by the moon rising very slowly in the eastern skies. Its rare for me to stop and notice the sheer beauty of the universe unfold, the moon shine down, the stars twinkle and in all the glory of the firmament a tiny, tiny firefly flits around and the conversations flow again. 




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