Forward to the Past

You took the first portrait of me. I was just over a little year old, probably sleeping when you clicked the photograph. My family did not know, quite possibly only a handful of people in the world knew about it at the time. It was a little secret that I discovered close to three decades later. Better late than never.

I was not alone in the portrait. The person who introduced me to books, the teacher who showed me the path to a good life, the friends who went along in stupid adventures, the love, and the heartbreaks- all were in that portrait. And so was a Dusky Seaside Sparrow, probably returning to its nest in the glory of a Florida sunset. The gentle giant Sudan was drowsing in captivity in a foreign land. The Saint Helena Olive was in full bloom with its pink flowers. A school of Baiji Dolphins were frolicking in the Yangtze River. I rode the bicycle for most of my daily activities. Disposable cutlery was unheard of in my family. Life was unhurried while you approached the edge of the solar system.

As you continue into the infinite darkness, Sudan has since been freed. But alas, he has breathed his last. And with him has dimmed the hopes of an entire species. The olives eventually met the same fate as an exiled emperor. The dolphins of the Yangtze have not whistled in years. Three decades and seven thousand miles later, I witnessed the first light on a surreal place. A glimpse into what the Earth must have been in its prime. An automobile is now a necessary part of my life. Plastic straws and styrofoam containers are not too uncommon. I have changed. We have changed. The memory that you carry of us- is but a memory. The blue dot from your younger days has become paler over time.

Four decades and fourteen billion miles hence, you do not need to take another portrait of me. But the sparrow can find its nest again. We might not be able to reverse the clock. But we can keep it ticking. And your swan song can be our overture. We are significant because we are insignificant.

Epilogue

When the steaming cauldron, that once held the primordial soup,

From where the sugars went right,

And the amino acids to the left.

Life found a middle ground, evolving over eons,

Till the intelligent species took over.

And the cauldron started to spill.

Too many cooks indeed spoil the broth.

Because we need the sun at night,

And the blinds by daylight.

Have you ever paused at the phrase 'fossil fuels'?

How we built our lives, entire civilizations from Her graveyards?

Without mourning, without reverence.

But Her heart weeps

With the melting glaciers.

When shall we learn?

That when there is nothing left to burn,

All will burn.

And when the dust settles,

She will be ready with more love, and fuels.

But who will be there to receive it?

(Or it might be that the fact we are not trying to stop the madness is actually Nature’s

survival tactics? Maybe the only way to reset the environment is by extinction of the

human race that depends on us not caring about it?)

A tribute to Voyager I and Carl Sagan on Earth Day, with the dream of a better world.

Yearnings

What if you were a star?

Will you still come out every night?

Knowing that I will be light years away,

And it will be ages before I set my eyes upon you.

What if you were a wildflower?

Will you save every drop of life?

To bloom for me?

Knowing that it might be miles,

Before I reach you.

Will you be my shade in the sun?

Will you be my desert oasis?

What if you were a dodo?

Will you preserve yourself?

In stones and moss, in river beds deep,

With the slime of times over you.

Waiting for the rock hammer,

Waiting for resurrection.

Will you be standing still?

An eternity in entirety.

Amidst the blowing winds

And the flowing water,

Will you still blush at the twilight?

Will you be strong enough?

Will you be my Delicate Arch?

When all is dust, will you be the harbinger of love?

And lead me to the light of a million stars,

And the scent of a thousand flowers,

And all that has vanished from the earth,

Or is yet to come.

Will you be my phoenix?

Will you be the cocoon of peace?

While entropy rages.

Will you stand still at the edge of time?

When eternity is a forlorn conclusion.

The Promise

I will call you in the twilight of the storm,

You will find me in the seeds of tomorrow.

In revolutions stillborn, in fields yet reaped

In the sun at the end of the mist, and rain drops yet to scatter.

In the holes of our souls, in teary eyes

Through the trickling lights, in visions to be realized.

In hope behind wars, in smiles waiting to burst forth

I will stand tall, sway not in the face of the squall.

For what looks up can only be put down, never brought down

And that which doesn’t yield, will never be destroyed

For what belongs to the future, is invincible to the present.

(Terribly late for another post but this is probably fitting in continuation with the last one.)

Promise of Memories

Like footprints on the sand,
Washing away with the waves.

Like the arch of the rainbow,

Melting with the clouds.

Like the dewdrops of night,

Vanishing with the first light.

Like the leaves of fall,

Departing with the snow.

Like the resting butterfly,

Hustling away at the footsteps.

Like the grass kissed golden,

Falling flat with midday sun.

Like the shooting star,

Freezing at the Earth.

Is not the end as I construe,

But the promise of more to come.

For the eyes twitch and the face contracts,

Before the lips burst forth with smile.

For the pain of childbirth,

Makes the mother an artist.

And in the memories of today,

We hold the seeds for tomorrow.

A poem for the beautiful woman in this photograph and to look back into our wonderful time after marriage on the Kavvayi island in Kerala.

Hemispheres, in Love

When you scorched your kingdom,

I sowed my fields with snow.

And while you draped in the hues of fall,

The summer tempest was yet to beckon me.

When winter came, you were ahead

In the pride of spring.

I chased you in vain,

Through all seasons.

You always escaped,

As the light, while I lingered in the dark.

In the gloomy sunsets,

As you burst forth with hope of dawn.

You are timeless,

And I can go on for infinity.

But one day the sun shall not glow,

And the sea will swell,

The Equator will cease to exist.

Then we shall meet at the Poles.

Ours will be a frigid affair,

On the face of one Earth.

And we shall move mountains

And exude fire and create waves

And gush with the waterfalls

To shape the future lands.

As we move from one twinkling star to another
Together we shall bring life, again.

Keep Boreas Wild

Originally from India, I am a graduate student at University of Rochester for the last three years. The three years in which, the Adirondacks has opened a new world for me by allowing me to experience Nature intimately, finding joy in muddy trails, hopping over rocks and bushes than guided tours, trade the comforts of a hotel for a tent in the open. And I feel that each and every part of this wonderful place needs to be protected to the best of our abilities.

My knowledge about Boreas Ponds is only theoretical and yet, I strongly believe that it should be classified as a complete wilderness zone. Much of the world is already tamed by humans or tailored to our needs or at the very least affected, adversely in most instances, by our actions. Let there be one more place, a tiny addition to an already shrinking list, which we can call as truly wild. The rewards, that come from a journey into the wild, to witness Nature in its prime, will far outweigh the benefits of a motorized access. I am sure Boreas Ponds will still be beautiful with roads, dams, motorboats and the ensuing crowd- but is that enough? It might come at a cost to the land, the wildlife, the flora and it will be too late before we can evaluate the damages.

One of the reasons frequently put forward for making Boreas Ponds accessible is that there has been continuous human activity for long periods in the past and hence it is not deemed fit to be a wilderness area. Apart from the fact that this wetland tract is contiguous to other protected wilderness areas, we should not underestimate the healing power of Nature, even without human assistance. Let us think of Chernobyl that witnessed the catastrophic nuclear accident, one of humanity’s worst blunders. Now that the place is deserted and left on its own, Nature has been reclaiming it over time. Human footprints at one point of time don’t necessitate the need to prolong it forever, especially if we can avoid it, if our senses and understanding mature over time and make us see everything in a different light.

The other reason put forth is that the wilderness supporters are elitists that do not take into considerations the constraints faced by elderly and/or disabled people. I would beg to differ as I feel that handicap is not only a physical aspect, it has a psychological and social element too, among others. For example, I would like to stand atop Mt. Everest one day but I know that I don’t have the mental courage (or the physical stamina) to undertake such a venture, and this is leaving aside the concerns of my family if I were to ever take such a step. But I would never want a highway that will take me to the highest point on the Earth as that will negate all that the Everest stands for. If Boreas is classified as wilderness, probably I will never carry a canoe all the way to the ponds even though I would love to paddle the waters with the beautiful reflections of the high peaks. But the complete protection of these wetlands will enable such pristine beauty to be preserved which in turn will let others take in the joy that I would want to experience. We all have our limitations and we cannot hold on to everything and it is not elitist to have an understanding of our time and place. It is said that ‘A thing of beauty is joy forever’. Let us give our best to preserve the wild beauty and it will reward us with happiness in the generations to come.  

To quote the ancient Indian proverb- ‘We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors, we borrow it from our children.’- do we want to be defaulters? Do we pay back partially? Or we return in full to the best of our capacity? Let us not test Nature’s resilience but help protect it. Let us choose perseverance over convenience, wisdom over technicality and above all, wilderness over familiarity and domestication. 

P.S. Some useful links for further reading-

News about APA’s various proposals- http://www.adirondackalmanack.com/2016/10/apa-sets-forth-three-options-boreas-ponds.html

The group that made us aware of many things - http://adirondackwilderness.org/

An excellent article by Bill Ingersoll of Adirondacks Wilderness Advocates-   http://adirondackwilderness.org/case-wild-boreas/

Brendan Wiltse, spreading consciousness through photography among other ways https://www.facebook.com/brendan.wiltse.photography/?hc_ref=SEARCH&fref=nf

What we can do, sign the petition at- http://adirondackwilderness.org/take-action/?nocache=1

The Escape

I was alone, paragliding over the glaciers. Not ‘I’ exactly, and not alone either. The cold wind found many ways to get through the airtight suit. And the sun, being closer to me than it ever was, was not helping too. It was a strange, piercing feel of heat and chill. When you are invaded down to the veins and arteries, you don’t know where you ended and Nature began. There was no brooding, no luxury of time to be alone and worrying about the ordeal. With the skies above and the ground below, all I could do was to keep flying.

Flying? I turned around, looked at myself…I am here, glued to my garden chair and enjoying my evening tea. Funny that I thought about flying! Maybe a little bit of football on weekends with the village children to deceive myself that I am still strong but nothing this wild.

Now that the glider had considerable momentum, I relaxed to look at the grazing sheep. And the deodar trees seem so tiny. 

Wait. Why am I having all these visions? Glaciers are supposed to be vast expanses of white. Did the wind get the better of my vision while gliding? 

But I am not gliding; I am just out for a walk while the sun is setting over the valley. The sheep are being herded back to the villages and the evergreens are standing tall, as if in guard against the advancing darkness. This is my hamlet in an inconspicuous hill-station in India, nowhere close to Denali.

The last orange kiss of the day on the peak of Denali seems so dear. From above, I can clearly see the sunset hues criss-crossing the whites. But the cold is getting harsher, even the numbness has ceased to exist. I need to get past the peak and land on the other side where the National Geographic expedition team is waiting for me, with warm blankets and hot food. Probably wondering why on earth they agreed to the idea of me gliding over the Alaskan ranges. 

I pulled the blanket closer to me…but the cold doesn’t go away. A few more knots, then a descent of a few thousand feet and I will be safely back with my team, after a week of hiking and flying in the wilderness.

I twist and turn on the bed, rub my palms together. The cold is very stubborn. I need to steer the glider correctly during the descent. Am I dreaming?

Rubbing my eyes, I left the bed and took a seat near the telephone. It was a cold, new moon night; nothing to look outside of the window. Except for the stars that do not wax or wane. They are always here to look out for us, till they burn themselves out.

The warmth and light came with the ringing of the phone. ‘Daddy, I did it. I flew over Alaska.’

I didn’t understand whether it was the voice of an exhausted adventurer or a little girl. I cannot remember why I was feeling cold or having all those visions. Everything seems confusing with the Alzheimer’s. But I think I was living the dream. And now I can sleep.