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A Connected Silence

Circa May 2012. Tadoba Andhari Tiger Reserve. I was standing on the grassy carpet that would be a lake bed in monsoon. But now, the water had receded far, drunk by the greedy sun that was beating down at a relentless 45 degrees. All around me was the deceptive quietness of the forest.

As I walked around, training my camera at anything of interest, I discovered something profound. Under my feet was a universe of microscopic dimensions! What I took to be grass was not really just a homogeneous spread of indistinct greenery—it was actually a teeming world of multiple species.

What’s more, every single one of them was blooming in a kaleidoscope of colors, much like the coral reef. Deep purples, shocking pinks, striking whites, bright yellows, and arresting blues were the flowers whose detail I could see only through my 70 – 300 lens at tight close up! And they were fed on by even tinier insects, bound to this world in a symbiotic marriage.

And my God they were busy—with this business of living, feeding, blooming, reproducing, competing and surviving! Even a clumsy gargantuan intruder like me was helping them by crushing some competitors and propagating some afar.

This world conquered me. Stripped me off my intellectualism, big world concerns, emotional baggage, human superciliousness and pretentious beliefs. Because none of it mattered there. In that moment. Amidst that violently colourful microscopic Garden of Eden.  

And lightened of my burdens thus, I felt connected. To nature. To this very ephemeral, undefinable phenomenon we call life. To all the species under me. Around me. Above me. Away from me. To the world. Probably to the universe.

The moment felt pure and joyous. Mystical even. And heady!

I keep retuning to this world, whenever I can. And I gain rich dividends. I discover tiny spiders eating tiny butterflies in my garden. I discover a passion fruit bloom on the way side in Kerala. I discover the sun trapped in a tiny dew drop under a small tea leaf in some tea garden in Kaziranga. I discover a small worker ant lumbering under the weight of a larva in the park. I discover a complex conical spider web catching the sunlight brilliantly at Maharashtra Nature Park.

Unsurprisingly, all these moments are quiet. Born out of exercises in solitude. No conversations. No philosophies or minutiae. No buzzing thoughts. No worries. Just a stillness.

A state that flies in the face of my general personality—loud, restless, talkative, and energetic. I used to wonder about it. I have now concluded that contradictions are good. Even gregarious souls need silences.

I started meditating somewhat seriously from 2013. And being silent and watching my breath has taught me much. I have learned that if I slow down my heartbeat to a soft thud, I can hear the grass growing and flowers blooming. I can even hear your heart and its many burdens, wisdom and desires.

I feel connected to you, without conversations.

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