There's a beach close to my dad's village in South Canara. Strangely, its unnamed and not too many people know of it. You could keep driving down the coast and can see the wild Arabian Sea smashing against the rocks on one side. The road begins to narrow down and you realise the other side belongs to the River Suvarna, calm and childlike, streaming against your road. You keep driving down as the path narrows down and stops to meet the point where the river and the sea meet. Its a spectacular sight, really. Like from another planet.
When I got there, I knew I had to sit at the shore and just blankly stare at the water around me, but I was far too confused. To my left was the sea, the sea and the sea. It was vast and angry and powerful. It had tamed its shore to flow down softly into it and disappear under its blue. Somehow today, it was scary, like God is sometimes. Too big to love. Too powerful to be tender.
To my right, though, was the river. The femininity of Suvarna hit me immediately. An aimless drifter, she was ambition-less, childlike and careless and she loved every moment of the freedom her purposelessness gave her. She joined the sea with almost no struggle and made way for the massive white foam to hit her blue green tranquility defenselessly. It didn't matter anymore, as long as no one told her to stop flowing. She was scared, but she was just as curious.
Not thinking too much more, I sat down by the bank of my new found girlfriend and listened to the noises around. The moon was rising above the Suvarna and the refection of the setting sun on the Arabian Sea caught my eye. I needed to write, instantly, and it didn't matter if I wrote gibberish. It didn't matter if I tore it up later and hid my hopeless romanticism and less than none expressive skills. I'm still kind of spaced out though I'm back home now, and I hope to remain so for some time.
Make me a wave if you must make me an ocean.
Make me the wave nearest to the shore.
Make me white and make me break
So you can take me again and make me once more.
Make me a river if you must make me a sea.
Make me sleepwalk in the arms of the paths I choose.
Make me weaker than I know really I am
And let me cry for every dream I lose.
When I got there, I knew I had to sit at the shore and just blankly stare at the water around me, but I was far too confused. To my left was the sea, the sea and the sea. It was vast and angry and powerful. It had tamed its shore to flow down softly into it and disappear under its blue. Somehow today, it was scary, like God is sometimes. Too big to love. Too powerful to be tender.
To my right, though, was the river. The femininity of Suvarna hit me immediately. An aimless drifter, she was ambition-less, childlike and careless and she loved every moment of the freedom her purposelessness gave her. She joined the sea with almost no struggle and made way for the massive white foam to hit her blue green tranquility defenselessly. It didn't matter anymore, as long as no one told her to stop flowing. She was scared, but she was just as curious.
Not thinking too much more, I sat down by the bank of my new found girlfriend and listened to the noises around. The moon was rising above the Suvarna and the refection of the setting sun on the Arabian Sea caught my eye. I needed to write, instantly, and it didn't matter if I wrote gibberish. It didn't matter if I tore it up later and hid my hopeless romanticism and less than none expressive skills. I'm still kind of spaced out though I'm back home now, and I hope to remain so for some time.
Make me a wave if you must make me an ocean.
Make me the wave nearest to the shore.
Make me white and make me break
So you can take me again and make me once more.
Make me a river if you must make me a sea.
Make me sleepwalk in the arms of the paths I choose.
Make me weaker than I know really I am
And let me cry for every dream I lose.
Make me a drop and let me forget.
Make me one with a thousand insignificances.
Let me lie here till I can't move anymore
Till all the ocean in me erupts into a thousand dances.
9 comments:
nice. I like. Now that I read it again, I get it.
and what happened to sea shell idea??
And I really like the title. I have no idea what it means. But i like it!
sigh. for some strange reason, neither do i. i think its vishranti but maybe i'm just sleepy.
Hello Rae
Thanks for your comment on my blog.
I see you have a Haiku blog as well. How about sending a Haiku about Mars . . . or an over-adverbial poem.
Esther
Hello. This post is likeable, and your blog is very interesting, congratulations :-). I will add in my blogroll =). If possible gives a last there on my blog, it is about the OLED, I hope you enjoy. The address is http://oled-brasil.blogspot.com. A hug.
Wow.
nice
my coffee tasted bad this morning so i was wondering about rotten coffee beans, and i found your wonderful poem, thank you from Oregon.
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!
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