Monday, February 15, 2010

Tempest

Pic taken at Kochi Fort, August 2009

The sea when I sail out is blue, a pale turquoise, if you please. A single ray of the late afternoon sun catches a wave that is about to ebb and there is a burst of light that in an instant spills to the next wave and the next. There is then a whole sheet of light around me. There is a boat, two fishermen in it. But they move away from the jetty I am in, pushed away gently by the waves of the bigger sailor.

I wish it was all quiet then. But as always, I forget that silence has a sound too. Specks of green weed float by. A few fishermen, not too bothered to look up at invaders of their livelihood. The jetty slows down, then picks up, turns away a bit. In the distance, darkness approaches. Thick, ugly, a spoil-sport. The setting sun reluctantly goes behind the opaque curtain.

Pale blue now turns darker. It is yet a dull black now. But I know her nuances, she is not menacing.

Almost playful, she throws up the jetty a bit, rocking and lulling out the gentleness. The deepening anticipation breaks only slowly. A trickle begins at a distance. By the time it approaches the jetty, it is heavier, the rain drops large and not too cold.

She seems a little agitated now, dark, with shades of an unsettling grey. Rocking about those who dare disturb her rhythm, testing endurance, testing their stand. But she is not in a vengeful mood today, all she wills to give, in a glimpse from behind the veil, is what she might do in anger.

The sea is in a benevolent mood though. The dark ceiling parts a while and the sun, with his last of fiery rays for the day, breaths out. The light is welcome, the rays though are not strong enough to bring forth sheets of gleaming light that bounce off the water again.

As if to making up for keeping the sunset out, there is a burst of aftermath colour and within seconds, the waves embrace the colours too. Reds and pale pinks, a burst of violet. Garnished with a faint salty breeze. The birth of colours, their lifetime of a dozen minutes splashed in the elements.

A fishing boat drifts by in the distance. Perfection.

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