Lakes, placid

 

 

 

ENVELOPED in a thin layer of mist, ushering in the new day, silent and serene amid the slowly rising chaos, creating its own sweet stroke on nature’s wide canvas, the placid lakebestowsbliss inabundance. It has a name, ancient and modern, from the folklore and from the administrative records, to be remembered for academic purposes. Unmindful,ittowersoverthemundanedetailswithits simple yet enchanting beauty, providing a getaway to the harried hearts who seek refuge in nature’s lap before taking a plunge into life’s daily rigours.

 

This is a tale of every morning for denizens of every village, every town, every city, every mega city. The little difference is in the size of the lake, and its condition. And the biggest difference is in the level of interference of man -- the vicious animal, everhungry to extract his pound of flesh from Mother Nature. While the gratified souls seek a Lake Placid, the swashbucklers are always in search of “tapping the potential of the water body” with spectacles created by machines and music emanating out of recorded pieces. God’s natural melody is no music to such ears.

 

Or perhaps it is a mythical occurrence left to be enjoyed by the romantics! And the exploration begins, dreams are sold in a hurry, with validation from theWho’sWho fromvarious fields. The romantic keeps wondering, what is the need? Beauty and bliss is inthe simplicity oftheplace, why tamper?The lake whines, squirms, shrinks but keeps giving in whatever form -- to the real seeker. The tale repeats, in various manners across landscapes. Sometimes the swashbucklers are replaced by the greedy and the crooked. Their‘love for the land’ travels to an al together different plane. They keep gnawing at the water body, inchby inch,until the whole thing is gobbled up.Theirbenefits are multiple, from political to pecuniary. And the lake itself is submerged in the sea of human greed, awaiting a noble hand that could yet again dig it out. In villages, in towns, in cities, in mega cities, the painful struggle goes on--for the Lake and for the lovers of Placidity