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Into the Woods


She walked in barefoot into the nature.
Something whispering, murmuring, coaxing and invoking.

The many trees that turn color in the fall.
The sunlight filtering through the treetops making beautiful dappled patterns on the pond.

Children all around making happy shrills. Running, playing and being their age.
The lone couple under a sprawling banyan and the other couple freezing moments of maternity.
The bald man asleep on a bench and another just like that on the grass.
A young lady reading ‘God of Small Things’ and the grandpa with his kindle.
A bunch of burqa clad women busy picking fallen leaves out of their lunch boxes as they sat in a circle, giggling.
And another lot playing ice and water.
Babies in their strollers and the puppies strolling around.


Roses of every color and shape. Some as big as two palms cupped together.
The gulmohar, silver oak, pink Cassia and hundreds of nameless astoundingly beautiful plants.




The texture of the place imprints in her mind. The garden city of course.

Except she wonders if many have forgotten what to do about it.



(Inspired while taking a stroll at Cubbon Park.)
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