It was a sultry, sunny afternoon. Some noisy kids were playing on the roofed terrace in the neighborhood. Everything looked bright and there was sun in everything. The colored clothes that were drying on the rope looked like beautiful colored fairies dancing to the tune of the wind, they were warm and everything smelt of the sun. The Earth smelt of the Sun. You will know what I am talking about, if you have been in a sunny afternoon in a village mud house. The description of the smell itself will transport you to that afternoon, to experience the love making of the Earth and the Sun, which creates such wondrous, sensuous and warm Indian afternoons. It was such a bright afternoon, when Amravati was born in a small corner room of the village mud house. Sometime back, there had been groans and cries of the mother trying to push the baby out of her system. But now everything was still and silent. Even the leaves on the trees were not moving. The Sun seemed to be covered by the dust in the soundless wind. The afternoon grew patchy and a new born girl’s cry cast a dark shadow on the village.
A woman and two men standing at the door of the room rushed inside, to see what remained of Amravati’s mother. A young woman lay on a bloody bed, whose lower body was completely drenched in blood. An old woman held, a puny, little, blood and fluid, smeared baby in her outstretched arms, expecting someone to take notice of her. Amravati was crying incessantly, as if complaining angrily about something to someone. Suddenly the new borns cries were smothered by loud moans and wails of her father, who held on to Amravati’s mother’s body tightly. “Don’t go…don’t go”, he wailed. The afternoon was filled with sounds of sorrow and grief. The relatives and other village folks rushed in to console a distraught and broken husband. Amravati was now quite. She had bathed and was neatly put on a corner bed by the good old woman, who then sat besides her.
Image Courtesy: http://www.kshamabade.com/warli-painting
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Published by Rashmi Dixit
My life journey began in a small village in Kanpur, U.P. I was raised by my grandparents for the first four years of my life. During the day I found myself running amidst the farms and the open sky, squinting at the sun. At nights I would sleep under the stars counting them and making weird patterns. The moon was my sleep partner then. My writing journey began at the age of thirteen, in Mumbai, when I bunked a class and found myself hiding from my maths teacher, amongst children, who were writing poetry for a competition. I wrote too, and to my surprise after a week, I was announced as the winner. Couple of months later I found myself battling lung tuberculosis, I was in complete isolation, but poetry gave me company. I wrote some really dark poetry around life and death and how beautiful death was. My writing and my imagination since then has been my greatest friend and confidant.
After my Post graduation in Microbiology, I was hired as a Scientist by a Multinational organisation. However, my soul kept humming a different song, although I was considered to have high potential and was known to be highly competent. After my marriage and two children, and nine years of corporate career, I jumped into humanities. I started conducting leadership workshops and interventions for organizations and I still do. My work helps me connect with the various aspects of human behavior and thus takes me closer to experiencing more of who I am. As a life and executive coach to several people, I observe their brightness and beauty, in their language and actions, and help them to see what I see. This helps them unleash their own spontaneity and experience more of who they really are. My work is my passion and it helps me grow. It makes my writing become more mature and rooted. Both writing and painting are meditative processes for me and help me explore new worlds, while creating deeper presence for myself.
I love to indulge in life, and I cheer for the same. I get excited and enthused about new ideas and great stories. I cry watching emotional scenes in movies and can easily get hooked on to some romantic drama. I love gardening and can be seen communicating with my plants in the mornings over green tea.
Rest you will find in my posts here.
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The Colored Mist 