The sun slipped and fell behind a mesh of trees, quietly stealing all their colours. Long legs walked past. What was it, a mind wandered. Eyes spied a yellow-wattled lapwing sauntering through the twilight.
The path in the Garden of the Unexpected led the feet to the fountain making shy ripples in the lily pond, where reflections of a dying day lay buried deep. A brainfever's three-note call rose in crescendo, tearing a succession of holes in the evening.
This represents birth..." The ears overheard a voice and a heart fluttered, warming up to the idea.
Next to the pond, a patch of sunflowers wrapped in fragrance, watched the man limp across the half-hidden pathway in a zen garden.
Are you hurt? They asked.
No, he answered.
Then, why do you limp?
Because I was born with one leg longer than the other.
The Zen Garden represented childhood, and the man with the limp was laughing as he gobbled up all that empty space to feed his imagination..."all this space, to make something out of nothing"...
The chimes hanging from the denuded Neem responded to this spontaneous wave of joy, and stirred gently, tempting the breeze with the elusive sound of their clinking. The tree house ran up and down, its smoothened wood glistening under the band of bright pink straddling the sky. The dragon laughed and the fish wriggled to free itself from the wooden structure it found itself trapped in. This is adolescence... And beyond it, is the tea house.
Go, I shall meet you there.
Sound lovely. Just that sometimes your imagery eludes me.
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DeleteIt is kind of a spontaneous write-up triggered by a short walk across the Garden of the Unexpected, in Matrimandir garden complex...I mainly wanted to convey the beauty of the concept and its nonchalant execution.
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