Of wet earth’s fragrance

 

Wet earth’s fragrance
fills night ...
.. rain in the room !
- Self   
 

 

EVERY sensitive mind reacts thus ! When the shadows of grey clouds up in the sky douse the night’s glow on the earth and the air is uneasy, a wet fragrance of the earth -- from the rain in the distance -- suddenly fills the night, as if it is raining in the room ! Tucked under quilts, nudged by the happy invasion on the nostrils, one’s eyes just open in slits, and a crack of a smile breaks the sleepy lips’ gridlock. The vibe -- that moment’s -- is just divine. This, too, is a universal human experience -- though only some may remain open to that sensation, that emotion. Maybe, the others are bogged down by life’s dailiness, its drag. Nothing special happens. Everything is routine -- waking, getting ready, doing things, going to bed. Nothing special. Nothing remarkable.

 

Nothing marked. All that blunts senses and blights capacity to peep over routine’s dullness -- and see life in its blooms and fragrances. Fortunate are those whose senses life’s dailiness cannot blunt, and who can pick up or absorb even those small nuances Nature offers. Rain in the distance .. and the earth’s fragrance wafts into the room in the night. As one’s senses rustle and one wakes up with the little nudge the senses provide, one realises life’s blessing. If the senses can be so delighted with the earth’s fragrance from the rain in the distance, then life has much more to offer beyond its dailiness, beyond routine. In that moment when the mind is lazily titillated, one imagines a powdery rain in the room -- and sticks the neck out of the quilt to enjoy the wetness of senses. Rain in the room ! Is this poetry ! May be yes. And it is beautiful. Does not one really sense all this ? The earth’s wet fragrance ! The flowers dancing on the wind ! A journalist heard a happy commotion outside.

 

He opened the window to find out. On the surface, it was routine -- snowing had begun, and children had gotten out to play with their skates on. The journalist’s mind did no close the mind’s window after that routine spectacle. That evening, he wrote in his weather report: “Snow came, followed by children on skates...” ! That was sheer poetry. The fellow won an award for that imaginative reporting. Wet earth’s fragrance can make so much difference ... !