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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