THE VEIL THAT MY ABODE SHROUDS

The green veil that shrouds my abode. I nurture them like new borns and as they grow young and strong I feel mother's pride. They give me solace in trying times of stress and angst; a basket full of joy and jubilance when a tiny bud smilingly peeps out of the foliage defying the heat and dust of peak summer. A black and blue twittering shiny bird comes every morning and sashays its tail against the velvet green. It pecks the brown stems as though kissing a hullo and flitters away as the day breaks in. The sun plays hide and seek with the playful clouds and the shadows dance on the leaves. When rain lashes down during monsoons, pearly droplets slither down the slender strips of green and yellow of the hanging plants one by one on the puddle below creating a splutter of dancing acqua angels as though lifting their delicate feet up and down and swirling their skirts of pure white on the waterbed in intricate swerves and stances; ....pok.....pok....pok their tapping feet echoe on the trapped pool. Sometimes I open my eyes to a cluster of dewdrops snugly nestling on the palm fronds. All dreams come true when the breeze blows and an intoxicating fragrance of freshly blossomed jasmine filters in. Sometimes the bees croon a song and once in a while a butterfly with its transient wings of fire flies in. A squirrel has befriended me and scampers in boldly almost upto the entrance door poking its nose here and there as though in search of something or perhaps checking out a new found domain suddenly stumbled upon in his daily schedule of busy bustle. A cacophony of screeches and squeaks pours in from somewhere up. I look up to find a horde of parrots swinging their long green tail on the cable wire and robustly quarreling with one another. Just now a pair of sparrows rushed in and tried to perch on the window pane, in vain, incessantly chirping at the same time. A black crow and a few swallows are also part of the family. Kaalu the vagabond is a permanent fixture lazily stretched near the balcony door (there's a space in between which is open and unfenced), sometimes mud splurged, impish, snuggling upto the softness of the green and mischievously stealing a bite of the young, green stem or the leaves. I find peace here , happiness and loads of tranquil dreams take shape in the motley of colours, hues, shadows, twitters, scampers, yelps and chirps that follow a somwhat daily routine. I did not want to fence the green but the vagabond made it imperative as her favourite past time was to nibble away the leaves, chew away the moss grasses and peel off the barks of the trees with the aim to have stronger teeth. Now she is fenced out and hovers around with a questioning look and sometimes in a fit of protest gives a shake to the iron barrier with little paws stuck in between the mesh which shakes with mirth but stands still.

There is a smirge of red and mauve in between which flame as the sun blazes hot and small orange and yellow flowers on the pomegranade tree sway slightly with a knowing gleem as I water its stems. I know not the name of a little plant with deep purple cluster of petals; it throws off a heady fragrance as soon as the droplets of water touch the leaves. The China Roses are pink and white. The flaming red ones are outside in the park. The Jasmine has turned into a clumsy bush. Contrary to nature, the bottlebrush like a puritan dame stands erect in an aristocratic pose. The Christmas trees sturdy and old. The Marigolds have just begun sprouting but the Pappaya has risen to height already with a burst of green with yellow striped star shaped leaves. The Chameli is temperamental and blooms now and then when she feels like. The Champa was marauded once by the labourers working on the top floor. But I saw clumps of green cushioning again its spiky stems. The Palm fronds have really struck a chord with the others and have unfurled in huge bold strips. Its a pleasure to see them uncoil from curly closed strips of nascent green to supine velvety plumes. The tender stalks of many a plant look promising now. I hope it rains this afternoon so that I can gather more moments of green and translucent drops of crystals sequinning the beds with sheen. Buno comes once in a while, docile, submissive, shy. I pat her head and she sits with her head down quietly. Oh and yes Mr. Boots! the guardian of the house, takes stalk of things, erect afoot on the spiky balcony walls. He barks loudly at times to the rain bird who comes especially to meet him. The rain bird with the orange beak and white body tells stories of faraway lands to Boots. He listens with interest, his ears quaintly picked up and a deep frown on the forehead as he fails to image pairs of flying wings soaring amidst willowy cottony clouds. The water lilies laugh at him from their high perch. The brown cat lurks with a stealthy gait in the front park. Kaalu chases him while Boot ignores. Kaane has become old and philosophical and does not mind Boots' grumbles and growls anymore. He comes sometimes to quench his thirst from the earthen pot left outside.
This is my world and I love it so and will not like to change and go. When I retire from the bustle of a demanding job I shall sit amidst these green fronds and day dream of some fairy land of angels, elves, dwarfs and dawns of beautiful splurge of colours and songs. I shall await till then every morn to hear the dawn of melodious songs.