Late Afternoons

Late afternoons, a time when day slowly fades away, casting long hard shadows before me as I turn my back to the sun. Remnants of the noon heat rising up from the ground creates sweat beads on my skin. Walking along the defined path of stones and gravel in the garden, I am drawn to the sounds of sprinkling water, a respite from the scorching heat, orchestrated by the gardeners in an effort to keep her alive. The turning sounds of pipe rotating and the light spray of water, bring grass and all the creatures residing deep, solace. The soothing sound of the rustling leaves in the late afternoon breeze, caress my body as I am led by my shadow. Birds, squirrels frolic fearlessly while the humans wait for the earth to rotate just a bit more before stepping out to scatter their party. Mynahs, hoopoes, sparrows, bulbuls and agile squirrels chirp colorful sounds, amidst the shade of trees, collecting leaves, twigs, gossiping, and feeding. My presence alerts them. I am an intruder, a trespasser. I step back slowly, looking up and around. I see myself standing in a small green patch, compared to the towering buildings of cement and glass. The human need for control becomes evident. Every inch of the space has a designated plan. The boundaries set. The road, fence, pathway, the trees, shrubs, lawn, measured and maintained by the prompt guardians of the garden. Although, these plans have been made by humans, nature has accepted, adapted and infused it with life. A testimony to the all-embracing mother earth who envelops everything she touches. Snapping out of my reverie, I hear mechanical sounds of cutting, emanate from different parts of the garden indicating the ongoing battle, where the ever-extending arms of nature are ruthlessly cut off by the human needs.