Sunday, April 1, 2007

The yellow flowers

Some times it happens. All on its own. A few days pass by and few hours more. Then like years have gone by, it changes. Everything around us, the house, the dog, the car. Everything just becomes different.
Since childhood we nurture little dreams and big ones. Day dream about a sequence of events. "Meet her after the first job gets going". "Give Dad the keys of my first car". Motion pictures of thought processes flowing across our vision like a vivid story being retold again and again. And time flows by and the things change. Little forms here and there to begin with. Then the car moves out and some other moves in. The girl vanishes and some other comes in. And it just happens. Our dream, the one that had been for years. It changes. Metamorphises into something so different than what we began with. Irrecognizable. Unfamiliar. Changing shapes and changing shades. Different and new. A dream we cherished. A dream we cherish.
Life has a strange habit of turning around a corner and walking away. Tucking away its priceless moments in little packets of laughter and tears. Neatly packed and put on the top shelves of the cupboard. Out of reach of little souls. Away from jumping little boys with jumping shoes and football stories.
I really do not know if John said good bye to them or the daffodils said it to him. But it was a sad evening for the daffodils and for John. The flowers, alone in the backyard. The boy, alone with his friends! He walked like a ghost for days. The flowers didn't smile at him anymore. They just lay there in bright sunlight and in the darkness of the night. Maybe they were waiting, maybe that was all there was to them. Ever since Mom asked John to "leave those flowers and go out and make some real friends". He loved Mommy. He didn't like the sad look on her face that said aloud "It is so sad. My son has no friends". So he went out and he made friends. He had friends at the street end. He had friends at school. He met new people and they liked him and he liked them too. A new life. A lively way of living. With people around. Talking, smiling, shouting.
No more silent flowers. The first few days were strange, and then it was so much fun. Playing and running around. The boy and flowers parted ways... or so it seemed.
I was going through his diaries the other day, and I found something that possibly John wrote to describe that period of his life. The time when he had parted ways with his flowers.
Somethings are very strange and do not change with times, they stay with us till the end of time. Right from the time we begin percieving things, they are there and they stay on till the time we do. It is things like these... like the sun, the sky and our souls, that make our lives look the way that it is. The world around us has a very peculiar way of picking on us and making us see things around us.
Those same wild white flowers on the roadside on the way to school. We can never forget them. Those same broken benches in the local park. We will always miss them. The bright sun after a heavy rain. We will always have it with us. The yellow flowers in the backyard. To be lived with and dreamt of. They lie their in the rain like any other flowers would. They move with the breeze knowing little about the way they would shape the life of a man.
We were sitting on the window looking at the yellow daffodils. Me and John. John and the daffodils. Two couples oblivious to the existence of the other. Sitting in the same room. Looking at each other with empty eyes. Thinking, dreaming, remembering. John was holding his old diary again and scribbling something in it. I don't know that transpired between him and the flowers but whenever he saw them something happened. A page flew off his hand and landed near where i was sitting. John looked at me, his eyes begging me not to pick up and read the piece. I was ruthless. I just couldn't resist the great piece of secret information that had come across. A rare chance to unfold the mysterious talks between him and his flowers.
The little cursive shapes on the paper looked like little fish in the water. Swimming and spread all over! I wish I could figure things out...


  1. sweet.... good potrayal of mundane life... linked u to my blog bobo..keep on updating.. u have a reader here...

  2. true!!
    ...i too after readin ur ME, YOu and I...added u on my updatin...this type of work.!! i will always read [:)]