Many stories untold and many more images to be posted and this is the story of "my village",where the trees are still green,the sky still blue which counted for something.It was June and raining and all the lakes and ponds were swollen ..lilies and lotuses floated in the ponds and along with them the weedy floaters too..the long winding path that led to our familiy temple,a diety which we have worshipping for years.the peace transcends into joy when we stand before thee godesss..Ferns pushing through the cracks and crevices,the white and red flowers rejoicing..me and my village and the rains and a long walk.
"We both live in the same village"
We both live in the same village and that is our one piece of joy.
The yellow bird sings in their tree and makes my heart dance with gladness.
Her pair of pet lambs come to graze near the shade of our garden.
If they stray into our barley field I take them up in my arms.
Bees that have hived in our grove go to seek honey in theirs.
Flowers launched from their landing stairs come floating by the stream where we bathe.
Baskets of dried kusm flowers come from their fields to our market.
The lane that winds to their house is fragrant in the spring with mango flowers.
When their linseed is ripe for harvest, the hemp is in bloom in our field.
The stars that smile on their cottage send us the same twinkling look.
The rain that floods their tank makes glad our Kadam forest.
By Rabindranath Tagore
|it rained overnight and under the peepal|
|the long winding path|
|the family temple|
|the steps leading to the temple|
|it was wet everywhere|
|some old lamps underneath the peepal near the temple|
|drops and drops|
|absolutely gorgeous patterns|
|ferns through the crevices|
|those were the days|
please do not copy images.please do not steal
images courtesy:lakshmi Arvind