Forgotten songs of Amber


I saw it dangling from an old tree
shining like a string of amber in the morning light
On closer look I knew what i was
Nostalgia of my childhood soon hit me

How it used to smoothly roll across a small sponge bridge
Tightly wound between two wheels
As it sailed freely the music flowed
like soft waves on a moonlit shore

A little twist of fate
and the song would get stuck
A magic wand from the pencil box
would come out to do the work

Firmly it would hold the toothed wheel
like a prefect key fits in a lock
A small turn towards the left
would be enough to straighten the cluttered mess

This string of amber used to hold plenty songs
some long forgotten, some that would stay for lifelong
Sleepless nights went by in compiling love sonnets
Recording and rewinding to find the perfect balance

Those were the days of making mixed tapes
listing songs on paper and gifting audiotapes

Today it lies alone,
shattered, unwanted
Few remember that as it played,
some broken hearts mended

Now it lies dangling carelessly from a tree’s crest
left by the crow who once used it, to decorate its nest.

                                                                            -Saunak Pal


In The Talking Forest

DPP_21             Surrounded by the crowd of many known faces, he still felt alone in the city. He gazed around hoping to find at least one acknowledging glance or just a small smile somewhere. But having seen those empty eyes for days now, deep within he knew all he would get are few blank expressions and some judgemental stares. Even though he had been a part of this crowd for long; amidst all his acquaintances, he wasn’t able to find a single soul to confide into, share his views, free of the fear of being judged and expectations.

            Burdened with his thoughts he wandered aimlessly until he reached a distant land. Somehow, his feet had brought him to the edge of a forest, far away from the city. A cool breeze grazed his cheeks as if welcoming him in, the fresh smell of soil guided him across the gushing stream. A Whistling Thrush zoomed in from a near by tree, alarmed by his sudden presence. Intrigued he followed the melodious bird, thus moving deep into the woods. He remembered, he had thought of visiting this very forest quite a few times in the past. From the train window on his way to college, he would see the mist rising from the forest and the hill behind it and often imagine himself climbing towards the peak. Along with many of the other forgotten dreams of his youth, the picture of this forest had long vanished from his memory. Those childish fascinations, numerous imaginative adventures had somehow been lost during his journey in making a name, finding a place for himself in the ever busy crowd.

And yet, today he stood in that very same forest, feeling the grass between his toes; the very hill he thought of climbing someday, casting its shadow on him. As his mind looked into the archives of his old memories searching for references to this distant land, a Paradise Flycatcher came from nowhere and gracefully picked up an amazingly camouflaged grasshopper from a shrub. The green coloured grasshopper had learnt all its life to hide within lush green leaves, yet it could not fool the trained eye of the beautiful white hunter. Looking at his startled expression, the flycatcher spoke ‘Its quite simple actually, you see how much ever the grasshopper tries to look, behave like a plant, it will always remain what it is – A GRASSHOPPER!’. Amazed by this sudden turn of events, he moved ahead towards the mighty Fig tree. For a while he sat under its branches, admiring its hanging roots. On a closer look, he saw another tree that has been engulfed by the fig. The fig told him about its long journey, how once a Grey Hornbill had dropped some half eaten seeds while flying above this forest. One of those seeds stuck to a crevice of a then young, Jamun tree. Today, that seed has grown into this huge Fig and almost engulfed the Jamun in its attempt to reach the sunlight. The Fig pleased at the fascination of this new admirer, started telling him more and more about the forest. After all, it has been standing here for ages now and seen lots of stories unfold. It also showed him how he has been repaying the hornbill. Not only does it gives its fruits to the bird but today a Great Pied Hornbill uses one of the holes in the fig’s trunk, to make its nest. It knows, some day this very bird will carry its seeds and drop it somewhere far away thus giving rise to a new Fig.

As he sat at the roots of the mighty tree, wondering about the fig and hornbill he saw a small gecko crawling under the fallen leaves. The gecko told him about its plan of resting the entire day, hiding near the roots of the fig only to move out at night. From the corner of his eyes, he saw something white fluttering at a distance. A Malabar tree Nymph flew effortlessly for sometime in front of him and then moved towards the stream. The careless flight of this wonderful butterfly showed him how it is not at all bothered of the flycatcher or the hornbill sitting above. He went to the stream to quench his thirst and to get another glimpse of the tree nymph. As his lips touched the cold water he felt a soothing relief. He drank to his heart’s content and then sat by the stream with his his feet barely touching the cascading water. ‘This is the best water I have ever tasted’ he thought, wondering this thought is probably because of the fatigue. A soft breeze blew through his hair making him feel a bit lazy. He lay on the soft soil looking straight at the clear blue sky. His vision was partially obstructed by the fresh pink leaves of the Kusum tree standing next to him. The sunlight split into thin rays in shades of scarlet on passing through the leaf, as if a prism was held against it. The light painted a tattoo made up of shadows of leaves across his face. A Black Eagle circled in the sky looking down at the canopy in search of a heedless Giant Squirrel. It told him how far the forest spread, of similar forests in far away lands and also promised to see him, the next time when he goes trekking in the hills. From a distance came the tap-tap of a Woodpecker busy looking for insects inside a decaying wood. Listening to the rhythmic taps he dozed off at the very spot.

A sudden loud ‘hoo-hoo’ woke him up from his slumber and he realised the Fish Owl was getting ready. It was nearing dusk and the smart hunter was preparing for its night prowl. He realised it was almost time, he has to return back and with this, came another realisation. He was LOST!….Lost in the Wilderness!

In his unguided walk to move away from prying eyes, from the deafening crowd here he was lost in the wilderness. And along with him he had also lost all his pain, sorrow & suffering. Suddenly the burden of expectations was off his shoulders and he felt free, for the first time in years. Not a single word was spoken, yet somehow the forest heard him, spoke back to him, consoled him. Here no one judged him, no one asked his language, no one valued his clothes. Many frogs started croaking along the stream and crickets chirping from nearby bushes; in their cacophony he found solace. And then all of a sudden he knew, this is where he belonged. At last he had found his place.

Armed with a radiant smile on his face, he marched towards the path that would take him out. He was ready to face his demons, ready for the battle. Now he knows, he has found home and he can always come back.

                                                                                                                                             -Saunak Pal