This is the month of thunder and lightning. It rains in the evenings. The rains are sparse, but the skies are in a rage. Morning brings with it a warm and smiling sun, and all the table roses planted along the edge of the lawn, begin to unfurl. By noon, they are in full bloom. On weekdays, I learn to be content with the sight of these colorful flowers, half asleep in the rays of the morning sun. A jasmine blooms now and again and floods the garden with its fragrance.

As I water my plants, I catch sight of mynahs splashing about in little puddles of water left by the rain. A dove sits on the fence and eyes the little pond in the garden in thoughtful silence. It scrutinizes the surroundings, and after what seems like a long mental debate, flies over to the lawn. It takes little steps on the grass and walks towards the pond. An eagle perched on the electric pole whistles an eerie note and perhaps expresses its discontentment. The dove is alarmed and it takes off. A flock of parrots has now arrived on the scene. They hover around the trunk of a coconut palm that bears no leaves. They seem to have discovered something of interest in the holes made by the woodpecker, for they repeatedly thrust their beaks into the holes.

I have been home the last three days- just a little break so I could pause to feel the breeze against my face, smell the flowers in the garden, watch the birds in silence, and watch the numerous people on the street go about their lives.

I dropped in at the pet shop, and watched the fishes in the aquarium. I got three pairs home, and put them into the pond. I watched them gliding in the pond, taking little bites off the leaves of the water-lily and the grass that hung from the edges of the pond. At the first rumbling of thunder, they disappeared into the depths of the pond.

After three days at home, I look forward to getting back to work. Today, the rains wake me up. There is no thunder or lightning, but the rains are a continuous downpour. My fishes have taken refuge at the bed of the pond; they refuse to show up at the surface.

Today, I do not drive to work. I walk to the bus-stop. I pass a row of little houses with thatched roofs, unplastered walls and uncemented floors. This is a colony of weavers. A spinning wheel sits on the open verandah of each of these houses. Colored threads hang on a clothes-line, waiting to dry. An old woman sits by a spinning wheel and looks at me with obvious curiosity. I am mesmerized by the sight of these houses. It is like a scene from a Gandhian village. Or perhaps from a Van Gogh painting.
In the bus, I love sitting by the window. Raindrops fall across the front panel and remind me of ripples in the pond. I watch the flooded roads, the lush green trees and the pedestrians- wet despite their umbrellas; I watch a land alive and teeming with life.

At work, I get a warm welcome. I am filled in on all the fun I missed in the last three days of absence. I am told about the Medicine HOD- an elderly gentleman, who boarded the elevator on the first floor, got himself thoroughly confused, and finally alighted at the basement, only to walk up the stairs all the way to the second floor.

Patients keep streaming in. They come from such diverse backgrounds. Each of them is a story in themselves. Never before have I come across a population this rich in terms of life. Each interaction is an experience in itself. I find myself being exposed to those realms of life I have never traversed….to those aspects of life that I have unknowingly distanced from. Each of these interactions leaves within me residual emotions….emotions that raise questions and bring answers.

Students form yet another segment of work. I have never before had the opportunity to play a role in shaping and moulding young minds, most of which are raw to a large extent. It is almost a process of creative ingenuity- to know them, to mould them and to help them achieve what their souls seek.
There is a camp tomorrow. But my name does not feature in the list. That means I am missing out on the fun, because most of the people I hang out with, are part of it. I risk a verbal tiff and ask if I can go too. The answer is a yes. That calls for celebration. We are all overjoyed, because there is nothing we value more than being together in all our endeavors.

In the evening, the bus is crowded. I have a seat to myself. A lady carrying a child has no place to sit. I offer her my seat. For the rest of the journey, I find myself dealing with my foot being squashed, with wet umbrellas dripping onto my face, with being thrown off balance as the brakes slam abruptly, and much more. When it is time to alight, I use all my strength to squeeze past the crowd and get off. I have an umbrella, but with two carry bags, one in each hand, I do not really know how to use the umbrella. On a rainy day, one never finds a rick. So I walk the distance home, and reach home, drenched and exhausted.
Along these lines, a day passes. My mind is full….full with the richness of the day. Each day is rich with experience. Each day, I grow from within. ‘Knowledge’ is indeed exposure to life. The three years that I have spent in Kerala feel like a lifetime, for each day is so ‘full’….so ‘rich’. And yet, there is no depletion of that zest one feels for life; life continues to intrigue and to lure. The richness of life is indeed measured by the depth of the experiences life gifts us. On those terms, I found life in the West empty. For it was a new experience, no doubt. But it lacked the emotional depth that I find here. The relative absence of struggle, uncertainties, differences and other variables seemed to have taken away the depth of the entire experience. There is variety, but that variety is at the surface, and it is a variety contributed by intellect. The West opens up a whole new intellectual, thought-driven world to discover, but there is little emotional depth to experiences. Individuals differ in terms of their thought, logic and ideas, but emotionally, there is little scope for characterization. Perhaps that largely has to do with evolution in relation to the environment.

As the sun sets every evening, it has taken with it yet another day of my life on earth. I reminisce moments from the gone day. The day has been full and rich. I feel content. It doesn’t matter how much longer I have of this life on earth….only as long as every day of my life is justified….justified in the larger picture of life.

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