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Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Palash

Watching Palash outside my colony gate, I often wonder what if one day Palash decided to talk. Since I am a proclaimed narcissist, I often wonder what Palash would say about me. Palash has been a witness to many a scenes from my life. Palash has seen me:

Prance on days when I was excited to go to school;
Tensed when I was not too sure about the exam or how I was going to fare;
Wishfully daydreaming when reality did not promise a fairytale ending;
Crying when the road was rough and so was life;
Solemnly bidding goodbye to friends after a get-together;
Waiting impatiently for guests who were having a hard time finding the way to my house;
Hesitate when there was something on my mind but my guts betrayed me to come clean with my mom;
Sad when I missed my dad too much;
Excited and even a little proud of my achievements when I could not just wait to come home and share the news;
Safe in knowledge that home was near;
Stunned to see the beauty of the colors of its flowers in spring;
Numb when the pain could penetrate no more;
Looking stunning when going all dressed for various occasions;
Teary when I came back from my school farewell and the college farewell;
Thrilled when going for the first day of work;
Tired when I returned from the first day of my job;
Smiling from cheek to cheek on the day I got my first paycheck;
Burdened with shopping bags after blowing up my first salary;
Crossing my fingers and blushing after I was dropped home after my first date;
Reliving that happy moment once the relationship ended;
Stressed over work related problems;
Analyzing personal follies and relationships;
In a hurry when I am sure to miss the bus, but make sure to put in the effort in the hope of catching it anyway;
Strolling in the cool breeze, taking in the spring air;
Enjoying the nip in the wind;
Invigorating the fragrance of the earth after the mild shower that wets her;

These are just a few things that are a shared secret between me and my beautiful Palash. Palash gives me the first sign that spring has arrived. I lovingly call him Palash. The scientific world decided to name him Butea Frondosa. I hope the Palash tree outside my house never lets my secrets out and honours the unsigned bond of secrecy between us.


10 comments:

magiceye said...

brilliant post!

yamini said...

Beautiful piece!! keep it up.
For once, i thought you had seen Palash Sen (the singer) outside ur house. a little further into the lines and i guessed (albeit wrongly again) that Palash was the name of the gatekeeper to your colony.
How far from fantasy and how close to the banal reality i was.
Anyways, enjoyed reading your words, yet again. Hoping to come across many more such brilliant gems. Luv...

MumbaiiteAnu said...

Beautiful words and memories, and the photo of 'palash'.
A born writer -that's what you are.

Abraham Lincoln said...

A lovely post. It inspired me to think of something similar. You are a brilliant writer and a great photographer. I guess you know that though.

Kris said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Kris said...

I enjoyed this one. It obviously holds a lot of importance for you, I'm sure it'll be around for sometime yet.

babooshka said...

The image grabbed me in the portal and then the wonderful writing continued to hold me here. Wonderful post.

danne said...

Hi. I found you via Paz, in NY. Noticed that we have the same favorite auther and line of work. glad I found your blog. //danne • todays picture Stockholm Sweden

nidhi said...

lovely post, priyanka!

deejthtraveller said...

what can i say, but smile & rejoice; for i am happy to meet another human who knows how to make friendship with a tree. Wish we had more like you :)

Beautiful post

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