Mar 23, 2016 Climate Change is Real!, Daily Life
Climate Change is Real: Day 5 of my Lone Vigil
©March 23rd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
(Woman with Sign, standing in for Man with Sign)
So, with Raga Bhatiyar humming around my ears like a drunken bee, I awoke just before the alarm. This is not my favorite trend, being by nature a night-owl, but I’m proud of myself, despite myself.
Freshly brewed coffee (finally!) in travel mug? Check.
Let Holly out, and get her back in? Check?
Holly’s food and water replenished?
Ear-buds in place? Check.i-Pod charged up? Check.
Gas turned off? Check.
Driver’s License in pocket, in case the Man decides to randomly check my ID (one never knows, especially if one is brown)? Check.
Phone charged and ready to go? Check.
Doors locked? Check.
Wakefulness? Um … let’s move on, shall we?
Muted lipstick and eye-black for those who like such things? Check.
This was my attire: Green scarf, red turtleneck, dark-blue sweatpants, sneakers, mustard-yellow buttonless cardigan-thing, olive-gray-green brimmed felt hat (mine, but which Warren appropriated, and I don’t mind, but I’m taking it back for now!)? Check! Motley isn’t too far behind at the rate at which I’m going. I think I’ll go for wildly clashing colors tomorrow.
And still, after all this efficiency, I was there twenty-three minutes past 7:30 a.m. Sigh. I envy men, I really do – well, at least my man, at any rate. He is punctual and ready, always. I think that somewhere, subconsciously, I’m still resenting anything that resembles my old school schedule, which was too absurdly early for any thinking human being. That is my excuse, and I’m sticking to it!
Well, I got there, set up my post, and spent my one hour, singing “Barani na jaaye,” a beautiful composition in Raga Bhatiyar that our Guruji taught us in January of 1994, when we spent a year in India studying with him for hours on end, almost every single day, except when we were sick, or on the rare occasions when he was unable to make it to Muktangan to teach. This composition addresses a woman, saying that it is impossible to describe her; all similes fail when the singer is struck by the beauty of her effulgent moon-visage. On top of all this, she is so beautifully ornamented, and perfumed with different perfumes, that he loses his senses, or loses himself when he sees her face and her beautiful form and gait.
Barani na jaye
Mose upama tehare
Mukha chandra ki
Barani na ja …Taiso hi attara,
Aragaja lagave,
Sudha bisaratha, mukha dekha,
Chaal madhamaata ki
Such was the beauty of this song, that I lost myself in it, and paid no attention at all to the commuters for some minutes, then tried to re-focus myself.
Right away, I saw many smiles from women today, many nods and waves, many thumbs-up (immediately followed by one SOLE thumbs-down by a grumpy guy – I waved cheerfully at him, waving him away). One man with a Vermont license plate, and Bernie 2016 bumper sticker, waved cheerfully, rolled down his window, and said something like, “… more than one way to make a change,” and drove on.
The coffee was fragrant and heavenly after a couple of days of tea at that hour (which is truly hellish for a morning-coffee person like me), and I was happy despite four hours of sleep. The sky was muted, and the wind blew on and off, threatening to displace Warren’s sign. It was odd to see how different the sky was on three consecutive days. Snowy-white on Monday, bright, cheerful blue on Monday, and opalescent gray today (I happen to like this pearly-gray, pink-imbued color). It was cold, but not bitterly so. I was glove-less, and grateful for it.
Guruji’s voice as usual made mine come alive. I’m so happy to sing again! I went to sleep with the sound of it in my head, and awoke with it, and have been singing on and off all day today. As usual, there were taans and aakars, and gamaks, and sargams, and Warren’s and my voice blended in the recording as we followed our teacher’s guidance.
As the hour unrolled, the same old, blue pickup car-truck drove by, and the cheerful, young, bearded man from Friday waved to me, and took another picture for In League Press. [He posted on their FB page that I was out there again today – I knew, because he had tagged me (I was a little worried at being so named in an online journal, but realized that since I had given him my name last week, and had shared Warren’s Man with Sign page with them, it was inevitable that he would mention me.)]
I heard birdsong, but didn’t see birds today — no sudden uprush of geese, or wild chasing of cardinals, or flashes of bluejay. Grateful that we still have birds, and that they still sing.
No chick tracts today, thank goodness! There’s only so much I can take about the Last Day of Judgement and harsh pronouncements utterly lacking in grace or love about the wrath of God, and so on.
However, there’s a little disappointment one feels at having no opposition (or, is it just me? I don’t like arguing online, but I don’t mind a nice, crunchy debate in real life.) – no mouthy Tea-partiers? No Climate Deniers? No mean-spirited citizenry out to make my life a living hell?
Wait! I’m kidding! I like the waves, the smiles, the nods. The occasional thumbs-downs I can take. I’m an adult. I am woman. Hear me roar!
These are the signs I saw on passing vans:
EnviroTech Breathe Easier (Yup, we need one for our whole planet)
Belmont Springs Water Delivery (Wish they could just deliver some water springs without the plastic)Plymouth Rock.com Assurance (what kind of assurance?)
First Response Fire Response (These guys are heroes)
Fences Unlimited (That’s almost an oxymoron, isn’t it?)
Stump Grinding – All Aspects of Tree Service (Stump-grinding sounds obscene)
I could turn ANY of these, and ALL of these into poems. I won’t try now, however.
The hour ended. I picked up my effects, and turned my face homeward. There is a strange freedom in doing this. At such times, I think, perhaps, I don’t need anything. We need so little, truly. Just food, shelter, some intellectual stimulation, lots and lots of music, basic clothing, and lots of love and friendship. All else is immaterial.
Thank you, Warren, for starting this!
It’s been a LONG day, and I’ve been really tired. Sorry to write this post so late in the day. Still, it’s not quite 11:00 p.m., so it’s still today. Will try to do this earlier tomorrow.
Sorry for the rambling post, and thanks for reading, friends!
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Tags: #ClimateChangeisReal, #ClimateVigil, #Pandit Shreeram G. Devasthali, #Raga Bhatiyar, #Warren Senders
Mar 23, 2016 Friday Fictioneers, Original Flash Fiction, Original Short Story, Uncategorized
PHOTO PROMPT – © Ted Strutz
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
Genre: Philosophical Realism / Science-Fiction at the end
Out of the Muck
©March 23rd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
We cannot live without hope.
Throw us in the dirt – we’ll rise. Throw us in the ocean – we’ll swim. Feed us rats – we’ll survive. Toss us down a cliff. We will cling to every rock, every branch, until we climb back up.
It’s coded into our DNA. You don’t believe us? Come, walk through this yard in the heart of the slums. See that toilet? What’s in it? Flowers?
THAT’s who we are.
So, please leave our planet alone. Go to another one. We are human. We WILL triumph. We WILL prevail. We are the Masters and Servants of Life.
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Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, whom I have dubbed our Fairy Blog-Mother for her unwavering commitment to hosting Friday Fictioneers, an online pow-wow for those of us addicted to writing flash fiction – and for her thoughtful feedback to everyone who posts stories on the photo-prompt de la semaine. This week’s photo-prompt is by the redoubtable Ted Strutz, an amazing storyteller and thoughtful commentator on others’s posts.
Tags: #Humans will prevail, #Out of the ooze, #Triumph over adversity