Weaving Tapestries, Painting Pictures, Dreaming Dreams

I have always had a deep affinity with the sights and sounds of moving water, right from the time I was a child back in my native India, be it a tiny babbling brook, or a stream, or the waterfalls gushing down the mountains during the monsoons, or a wide river flowing gently and of course the sea. The sea back home is wilder, especially during the rains, when it lashes relentlessly on the coast, and yet the wildness in us used to respond to its call and we would stand with outstretched arms and hearts beating with excitement on the shore, waiting for the waves to come and drench us. It was both exhilarating and rejuvenating.

But it was the quiet calmness of the sea in Kuwait that helped me to unravel my tangled reflections, memories and fancies into coherent thought. It was sitting by its shores that I found I could express myself in words and verse and I grew and developed my writing and poetry. The sight of its placid blueness was always like a soft hand upon my being that soothed my very soul and drove all my troubles away. It opened the doors of my imagination and my mind became a bird and took wing as I sat by its side. It has been a decade, but even now every minute I spend there is filled with delight. I can spend many enchanted hours watching the many changing colours, the gentle lapping waves, the tiny fishes darting and swimming, birds like cormorants, gulls, egrets, snipes, sandpipers, storks, cranes and even flamingoes on its beaches.

One day, I sat by the sea watching afternoon turn into evening and the suns deep warm, orange fingers stroke the Earth in a gesture of fond farewell as it moved on its journey westward. Ships were sailing in from far away countries or were making their way from the port. The sea was full of pleasure crafts: small fishing boats, motor boats, jet skis and yachts travelling through the water leaving behind white wakes. Overhead numerous flocks of birds flew to destinations unknown. The winds carried in the evening chill from some strange land. I realised that everything around me was on a journey, some like the sun moved on a fixed path, some knew where they were going and what path they would take and some were just travelling without any knowledge, letting destiny be their guide and only I was sitting there unmoving upon an equally still bench. But was I? was I not, even then, whilst sitting still, on a journey? A journey whose length and destination were both unknown to me. Did I even know if I had a moment more left on this journey or would it end before the next breath. I could dream of going places, I could even plan my route and itinerary but I could not foresee what the future would bring, if my plans would materialise or if I would be taken somewhere else like a seed blown by the wind with no will of its own. I had already without any desire or plans been that seed that had landed on a foreign soil, taken root, grown and flourished, where now would my journey take me? Would I just float upon the winds or was something in my power? The way I reacted to situations was in my power, as was doing good and being kind, fair and just and to spread love and hope; yes that too was in my power and maybe if I gave a little love and kindness and dealt with all my fellow travellers with compassion, fairness and justice, maybe then maybe I would receive the kindness in return and it would be favourable winds and a gentle hand that would guide me to my destination.