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Sunday, May 13, 2018

Rain - Showers of Blessings




It is raining in Pune today. A much needed relief after the hot spell we have had.
I have always loved rains. I know a lot of people who say they feel depressed when it rains. The grey clouds seem drab to them but to me they add an element of mystery.  I absolutely love it when it rains. For me, rain means rainbows, long drives on deserted roads away from the chaos of the city, paper boats and the laughter on children’s faces as they jump and splash around in the puddles. It means hot “Pakoras” and some ginger tea as I sit by the window watching the water run down the window panes.

I love the sound it makes.. the constant rhythm that is regular only in its randomness  fascinates me. After a while you cease to notice the noise that surrounds you and realize that rain has its own kind of silence, the kind where you can get lost in your own thoughts..the silence that invites your imagination to wander to all those places.. there is a privacy in rain..one just has to connect with it to feel it.

I love being out in the rain too. That soft satin touch on my skin invigorates me and I love the way it envelops me in itself, washing away the negativity and debris of daily life. The world seems so much more cleaner after the rain. The colours become more vibrant and alive, the landscapes get that surreal quality that is so appealing and the heavenly smell of wet earth.

For a person like me, who appreciates the beauty of nature, and all the blessings that comes with it..rain  is life in all its varied forms. It is sheer poetry and the nostalgia of all that was or could have been.

I know it may sound weird to some but I love thunderstorms too. They give me this euphoric emotional release. They make me feel alive.

Yes, I love rains.

Saturday, May 12, 2018

कल रात वो लड़की बहुत याद आई...



कल रात एक सांवली सी लड़की बहुत याद आई 
मैं चुपके से फिर एक बार अपने बचपन में लौट आयी. . 

मिली मुझे एक बार फिर  वो मासूम सी परी 
थोड़ी शरारती , थोड़ी नादान , पर बातों की खरी 
बुनती थी सुन्दर सपने , रहती खयालों में घिरी

ज़माने की सच्चाई को वो कहाँ कभी समझ पायी 
कल रात वो सांवली सी लड़की बहुत याद आयी.. 

मन हुआ उसे झंझोड़ के मैं हकीकत को बताऊँ 
आँखों पे पड़ा सुनहरा पर्दा  खींच के हटाऊँ 
ख्वाबों की हसीं नींद से उसको मैं जगाऊँ 

पर लाचार, ठगी सी, मैं कुछ भी तो ना कर पायी 
कल रात वो सांवली सी लड़की बहुत याद आयी.  .

दिल चाहा कि उसे मैं अपना परिचय दे आऊं 
उसका हूँ मैं ये आज, ये उसको भी बताऊँ
कब होता है सोचा हुआ, उसको ये समझाऊं 

ना कह सकी कुछ भी तो फिर इस आज में लौट आयी 
कल रात वो सांवली सी लड़की बहुत याद आयी.. 

© Copyright Renu Vyas
  

Thursday, May 10, 2018

Port Moresby – My Home Away From Home

My School Photograph

I have written about so many places and things here on my blog, but for some odd reason,  I had put my memories of Papua New Guinea on hold. It was as if my mind had somehow blocked them.

Today I came across a few old photographs from my life in Port Moresby and it was as if a floodgate had opened. I felt like a fragile sand castle on the beach, that’s carefully built walls crashed and got carried away with the high tide of memories. My brain working overtime remembering all the lovely moments from that time back home..hold on..did I just say back home ? Yes, however much I might deny it, deep down the only place that ever felt like true home in my heart is and always will be Port Moresby.

I remember our house in Boroko. The houseboy Penny who defined the word loyalty, his wife Lucy who was a wonder at most things and a very gentle soul. I remember  the Hibiscus, gorgeous bougainvillaea, stunning sunsets, moo moo parties,  long dresses with bright big colourful floral  prints, the bird of paradise , the women always carrying their little babies in slings with baskets on their heads, Pidgeon English, beetle nuts,  red teeth and warm smiles..

I remember Skyline Drive In and seeing Clint Eastwood on the big screen for the first time and falling in love with him (that is until I saw John Travolta In Saturday Night Fever and Grease at Wards Cinema..sneaking off with my friends from school).

I remember Paga  Hill and Koki Market.  Shopping at Steamships and Burns Phillips, the long drives, the curves at Three Mile, Crystal Rapids, Brown River and Sunday outings to Ela beach..the heavenly smell of low tide..collecting shells on Taurama beach and putting the larger shells to my ears to hear the sound of the sea in them..
Mr.Riles

I studied at Port Moresby High School and made some great friends. I remember our Principal Mr. Terry Riles ( who I connected with once again after some 30+ years ). I remember how much I hated my French class though loved the English one with Mr. Jackson (and I had a secret crush on him too..haha), always looked forward to the school trips to Pari Village with my favourite teacher Mrs. Carol Kidu. I remember the lovely school dances, the plays, and the horrible detentions, and the awesome meat pies at the school canteen (and the tolly ice). I remember the 3 day school camps, the long hikes and being stung by Jellyfish.

Whenever I think of Port Moresby, the two songs that come to my mind are “Pearly Shells” by Nora Aunor and “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” by John Farnham. I would give anything to go back to that time in Port Moresby, but like everything else in life, times change..thank god I have these great memories  that no one can take away from me..