“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Moon moon where art thou !


Nature has something beautiful for everyone. Be it the the majestic sunrises and sunsets or the blushing dawn. The patter of the rain or the roar of the thunder. A bug crawling up its way on a tender leaf or the croaking bull frog at night. 

Nature is the new born calf learning to get up on its feet, it is the chirping of a thousand birds at dusk. It is warm summer days and cool winter evenings. It inspires poets to write of love, life, joy and beauty. It is the promise of goodness and purity and of everything that is right and pleasing.

Last night while walking back home with a friend, the two of us paused and looked up at the moon, It was hidden between the torn curtains of the clouds. At times it peeked at us from between the tattered holes in the cloud and at times it disappeared completely for a while engulfed by the silver gray clouds and then yet again It would reappear.

This reminded me of playing peek-a-boo with babies. The child wonders where we are when we hide and then gurgles with unsuppressed delight when we reappear. 

Isn't it better to live life that way? What fun would it be to merely to walk at night as pompous adults, without delighting at these games that nature plays.