Cloud gazers -PART-2 I softly launched the inflatable raft in the water, jumped on it and paddled along the shore. Then I rowed to the middle and gave up on the oars. I lay on my back on the soft, inflated raft and let it drift aimlessly. The strong current quickly carried me along and I did not bother to row back. The raft bobbed wildly in the lapping current . It sent a different feeling through my body. I felt so weightless -- like a feather; I could feel the water pushing against my back, making a soft gurgling noise, everything so effortless. I lay blissfully and watched the bank roll by, slowly like the pan shot in a movie; the Jam and palm trees, the thickets, the slopes, the erosion. The riverbanks looked strangely desolate and verdant. There must be villages beyond the trees and grassy fields, but I could not see any houses, nor any humans. Only the tall trees throwing a pleasant shade on the river. Bird songs wafted around -- oriole, cuckoo, dove and warbler all making a soft syncopation. On this cloudy afternoon I was transported to another world, where no-one exists, where nothing matters, where only dreams and butterflies play around in the greens and shadows, where that another world even ceases to exist after some time.
I was now passing by a bush of feather plants. Their white flowers looked like a patch of snow on the green bank. The sight struck me so much that I stopped the raft and kept gazing at the sight. And then a heavenly thing happened. Suddenly the clouds parted and a soft, radiant ray washed over the nature. The forest looked draped in a golden sheet, the green grass looked like a field moulded with bronze. I got transported to my childhood -- an afternoon when another field turned into bronze and a little boy was overwhelmed by the beauty. And then the butterflies and the dragonflies showered magical sparks on the field. The sun dipped further in the west and the cotton ball clouds caught fire. It was a breathtaking sight as colours of every hue spread from one sky to another. Michael Angelo himself was at work here, drawing those ominous scenes. This cloud was red at the tips, orange in the middle and deep black at the bottom; right beside it floated low a violet cloud. The water caught the fire too, turning purple and then slowly a rippling gold. As the dusk approached, only the ripples were gold, the rest black. The gold and black interchanged continuously with the ripples. I was left in a fit of daze as the sun disappeared over the horizon. I could feel the dusk descending around me, softly like the wings of a nightjar. A cool breeze blew over the Shitalakhya. Against the deep blue sky, the river still glittered like a silver thread. The crickets started their nightly incantation.
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And then the rain came, softly sprinkling coolness on my body; the drops caressed my eyes and chin. I looked up at the cumulous gathering above that had replaced the morning drab, slate colour curtain. A dark patch of cloud hovered low over my head and turned into an angry horse, its nostrils flared up and tail flying in the air. The black horse disappeared in the north and more clouds floated in and I got absorbed by the magnificence of veiled images that were created and disassembled. It felt as if a picture book had been opened before my eyes, stretching across the sky and I gazed at the free heavenly show in a trance. Baby lambs were being herded by a shepherd, their fluffy fleece so distinct and wooly. A ship sailed slowly and then disintegrated into camel. The camel pixelled into an oak tree. I kept gazing at the wonderful show.
A launch took a turn in the distance and came puttering my way. I rowed with all my efforts and kept clear of the launch's way, ignoring the curious looks of the passengers. The raft bobbled dangerously in the waves created by the launch's propeller. But with a rubber raft, you have no fear of drowning.
