nirmalamayurpatil

  

a new corner

saturday evening

the twentieth

phālguna

. . .

“new leaves are beginning to dream aloud”

from the book of bārāmāsa - songs of the twelve months

my days are spent alone.

sometimes, lonely.

like the koel that calls from the neem tree on the hill

not thinking if its song is heard by any,

i go about living my days,

stringing moments of small joys, unspoken words, and quiet nothingness.

.

it is the last month of the indian year

and the morning of the spring equinox,

as a personal ceremony, i made a spring playlist.

and spent the day in the company of

ustad sultan khan, girija devi, lata mangeshkar and bhimsen joshi.

often, my days are heavy with the turbulence of the construction work outside.

noise, dust and the growing heat feels unbearable.

and i desperately wish to vacate this house i’ve loved for the past five years.

perhaps, there’s always a time to stay and a time to move.

for some time now, everything seems stagnant. waiting to move.

slowly, i’ve begun to say goodbye to the soft embrace of this house.

and dream of a new place. 

but until that newness comes to find me,

i’m trying to move things within.  

making a new corner - a home within our home, for myself.

graced with things i love, and love me back.

my father’s old trunk as a table, a moodboard, nature finds, and books.

now in solitary afternoons, 

i sit in my corner and paint a watercolor queen anne’s lace,

or sketch a wild grass strand with colored pencils.

escape into a book, or organize my week

gazing into the beautiful pages of my customized calendar.

it is not much, but permeates the long-echoing absence of friends in my days. 

sometimes, nothing replaces the loneliness.

 other times, a sweet jasmine leaning from the glass jar on the table

whispers with her scent

and i reciprocate.

.

soon it will be spring.

and i hope i can turn towards new leaves, new blooms and new dreams.

. . .