Jodhpur Blues
The view from my balcony...
Yes it's opening
This is the next house
Those are the neighbors.
Yes, the red balcony.
they sometimes come, their children play games, sometimes they come to cry alone, to steal a smoke, or just steal a moment.
In winters they come to sun dry their pickles, papad and quilt, they put their 'Manjhi' in the sun to dry their hair, the warmth of sun evaporating the beads of water on their neck and shoulders, they love the sun, warm and cosy, like a lullaby to sleep, they sit there to knit sweaters, for their children, the unborn and the grandchildren... the simple joys of motherhood...
On summer nights they come to sleep together as a community and young couples, shy and embarrassed of their desires steal glances, the old and tired snore till the dawn. The children and women chatter and gossip, to lighten their heart before they sleep a sweet smile. These are the neighbors.
The kite flying, Holi playing, noisy and loud neighbors. Whose names I don't know but I know they exist even if in a parallel universe...
This is the other side, can you see the girl who brushes her teeth every morning on her balcony...
and this is the view of Mehrangarh Fort, yes it's beautiful but not as much as my balcony...
Then I come out of my room,
This bird house is my room, my balcony, my view..
Where pigeons come to lay their eggs and we take their eggs and throw because they dirty the balconies. They come every time hoping, you won't. Sometimes they are lucky you be nice and let them live and take care of their eggs who slowly and if lucky turn into babies. The babies you don't want to kill. It's fine to kill the egg. But not the baby.
That bird whose eggs have been killed many times but she continues to nest again and again, until one day she gets old and falls to her death. Yes that's how the birds, the old ones die...
Is there an escape to this. Probably there is... let me try...
aaahh the door is open... yes i can leave... yes this is my chance..
And then I come on the road, and I run and I run...
Run the blue city and I run the corners, cross the roads, cross the blue houses, the green windows and the green doors. I run and I run to get out of the blues.
The sky blue, the walls blue, the world just blue, and the water will be blue too. Silly blue... oh the blues... I love them.
I can't laugh because these blues make me smile, these blues make me calm. Most of the world is blue.... and blue is the color, the most beautiful color.
Jodhpur, one of the most romantic old cities, go for a night walk, the blue keeps it nice and cosy and yet not dark, the blue and white reflecting the gorgeous moon light.
India's Santorini, the blue city with green doors.
Comments
very beautifully written.
Everyone doesn't throw away the eggs,some people whatever the nuisance let them be because for them killing an egg is akin to killing an organism,unborn and defenseless at that.
Loved the lines about the colour blue which happens to be my favourite colour :)
Places like mumbai these peigons are nuisance. I have myself debated so many times, with these birds laying eggs every where around my house. This way I gave words to my dilemmas...
Blue is indeed beautiful.
Thanks dear for being there.
Lovely lovely pics!
I love the quaint, blue city that Jodhpur is ..old doors , gypsy, mirchi badas, triploia bazar and mehraungarh of course!
Thanks for making revisit :)