ON NIGHT WALK AGAIN.

Something of the night always draws me out into the open stirring space. I don’t know what kind of force is attracting me. Perhaps it’s the calling of the solitary Moon for companion; or tiny stars, spread across the sky, sparkling as dying embers, beckoning at me to come out and watch them glitter; or it can be the silence offered at such time. Without knowing what gravity is pulling me at all, I found myself walking out on the road again.

And as I walk on the road under the shade of the meditating moon, I felt relieved as if cumbersome, troubling thoughts were lifted out of my head and clean as if my little-long hair has been cropped short. I knew then, besides those mysterious calling, unknown to myself, I have been longing to go out and meet them.

The glorious moon was few hours away from attaining his perfection. It’s ten. After two more hours, at midnight, he would be a NEW FULL MOON. There are certain beauties in nature that is abstract to be justified by literal words alone. They need to be felt sometimes. Gazing at the glowing being above, I felt like I was taking a holy bath as his divine radiation sank within me.

Crooks and canopies of the boulevard besides drew pattern on the road as they shimmered in the light. Slight misty breeze rustled the restless leaves, humming soft music which carried away the stress within as if a friend is sharing my sorrow.

And these trees. They provide me hope and sense of security. It was Ruskin who wrote that they are the lone sentinels of the night. Like guards they stand. I feel safe to walk between them. Sometimes they offer me majestic treatment. They are a part of romance in me. Each of them is reminiscent of my home in the foothills of Himalaya. Physically, each may differ from either – in its type and scientific classifications – but they all grow for an ultimate purpose – to preserve and protect the Earth. As long as they continue to stand, I am an optimist.

The road within our campus is limited in its stretch. But it was even shortened by the night-guard who whistled and forbade me from proceeding further. The length I walked could not suffice me. I was immensely blessed by the stirring heaven then that I decided to make another couple of rounds within that covered length of road.

Near one institution block, a large tent was dismantled. Skeleton metal framework was left behind. And even more! Scattered plastic cups and wrappers were visible in the moonlight. It is how celebration ends – almost everywhere. Previous day, there was a seminar for PG students at that spot.

I strolled back to dormitory and on the way, few heads of marigold lay scattered untidily. Poor flowers. Any celebrations and they are the eventual victims. Decapitated from their bodies only to make garments for fools. Every flower is met with that premonition. Beauty exploitations! Only wise prefer it as living ornaments in their gardens. Indeed they look prosperous and better rooted to soil than around someone’s neck from where they rot and wither sooner.

I dared not pick those flowers though how pretty and piteous they looked. Flowers, as they enchant us, can also enchant any being by their beauty. So, at night they remain in possession of night spirits and wanderers. I was told by my mother and I believe her not by the rule that she is my mother but by the fact that flowers are really splendid architect of nature. The magnificent creation of the creator. But flowers wasted on the road made the road uglier.

The night sky was in the height of showing all her wealth finally. Countless infinitesimal stars twinkling in contrast to the bright glory of the moon. Deficient of clouds, it looked even more cleaner. Galaxy looked as if someone stroke a burning coal and cast thousands of flying embers in the cold grey space.

Probably, they might have been the one who called me out then and I am glad that I went out. I would have missed to notice them at the time otherwise.

If I were given to write during day or at such night, I would prefer to write under the light of moon even if it is a waning one. Day is the busiest hours when both nature and man would be at constant endless wars. It is only at night as Earth retreats to meditation that some keen observer realises and understands her patience and love upon mankind. And such time is when they embrace to nature for her generosity.

Night is the time for love, isn’t it?

15-03-14
Saturday