Colours of Wind

What I could not fathom, my little daughter Koush solved it for me.

One evening, I was muttering something unto myself as I was progressing with my site and managing thousand odd pictures taken by me during my visits to Angkor, that she enquired as to my problem. Perhaps with a thought of wishing her away and letting me mind my business, gave her some excuse. But a chip of the same block, she insisted on. I know she is an intelligent girl; very intelligent in fact, for her age. Then after some time whilst we were having dinner she appeared a little strained. I tried to cajole her but she wouldn’t budge.

Around 11 PM while I was writing a blog on the laptop, she came up again and asked me as to what had been bugging my mind while trying to manage those pictures. Then I made her sit down next to me and told her my problem.

I began sharing my woes with that tiny little thing. Told her ‘that every time I went to Angkor, I found new colours; every single time. The tiny hillocks appeared blue, the jungles green, even the snakes were green, water blue, sandstone different hues of grey, copper, even red, pink, a sea green, the sky red, orange, yellow and clouds different shades of VIBGYOR etel. Then again when I revisited I found water a greenish grey, the lilies pink, the birds blue, people in a riot of multitude of colours. In fact, everything appeared so smeared in different colours  at different times that it had become that much difficult to manage my pictures for I was trying to select them for my  various blogs, which I eventually wanted to compile into different books.’

Having heard me patiently for good fifteen minutes and checking my pictures for ascertaining the veracity of my difficulty, she took fifteen seconds to give her verdict.

‘Papa, these are the colours of wind in which every being gets painted differently at different times; effortless without any break. What you find grey now, might appear a vibrant orange or a golden yellow at some other time. So relax. this is how mother nature plays.’

Play, I exclaimed.  Yes this is how Gods play. This is where the word ‘Sports‘ has its origins in. The continuance of natural happenings without a break. The Rhythm, the Residue, the Brahman, The Lord Himself…. Haven’t I read that in the Holy scriptures on cosmic intelligence?! And how naturally that comes to people of such grace as a Nadia Comaneci, a Michael Jordan, Muhammad Ali Clay, a Sachin Tendulkar, a Lin Dan, even to such tiny people as my own child. But, my conditioned old mind was not able to fathom something as natural, as simple.

Let us come out of such a mindset, I reminded myself, when we are dealing with His creations and Him. So logical; isn’t it. Thank you my child for helping me grow. Thank you Lord for giving me a child like her. Amen!

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