Tuesday, August 17, 2010










“If we had a keen vision of all that is ordinary in human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow or the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which is the other side of silence”
~ George Eliot

Last Sunday evening, after finishing my reading session, I was taking a stroll in the lawns outside the library when I noticed the area to be mostly empty with overcast skies above. I decided to stand still in the midst of this beautiful place. How many times during a day or even a week do we observe our surroundings like I am doing now, I asked myself. I looked at the grass, the trees and the rock stones that lay wonderfully encapsulated in the softness promised by this landscape. But the question was still flickering my mind. To a natural surprise, I saw butterflies emerge from the hedges, evening birds chirping on the trees and welcoming more of their brethren as if to join for one final conference of the day, before settling over the branches to take rest from the day’s flight.

Then a rare thing happened. Here comes a baby squirrel running towards me. It stops suddenly just a step away, looking at me with its tense tail swaying. And I am astonished to witness the kind of palpable energy with which it approached towards me and is now saying something or asking rather, with eyes fixed at my face. Unbelievable. The spell is momentary, and the squirrel starts running around as if frenzied with an excitement I dare not imagine about. The little squirrel runs all over the place, halting only to find a rare grass blade or some seeds and nuts maybe. With my hand reaching out habitually for my mobile camera, I sat on the ground trying to observe and hear the heart of Nature beating in a lyrical movement of these living beings.

For the next few minutes, as few would believe, the baby squirrel posed for my camera. Perhaps, it was just too excited to come in some contact with one of these ferociously walking giant-like figures. I can say, this adventure for the little animal was worth it, just like it was for me. The squirrel looked happy. So was me. It started growing dark and we had to say goodbye. I, seemingly the less sensitive of the two, did it first. With special memories and a faint smile on my lips, I left for a more ‘civilized’ place.


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