The Red Crab Clan

The clan of red crabs dwell peacefully and proudly across the sandy beach. The brown sandy spread appears to be dotted by their presence. The farthest extent to which your eyes can help on the sands, the red crabs keep running here and there and everywhere. They mark their presence so profoundly that it is implicit to say that the clan governs this beach.

Reverie and Revera, the queen and the king, rule their clan of red crabs here. They ensure that everyone of them is safe and guarded against any threats from enemies. They are dwelling in the state-of-the-art tunnels under the sand. Humans are still far away from expertise in building such architectures. How complex is the network of tunnels beneath, this only Shambhu knows. Shambhu, he is a human. He is the chief fisherman in the area. He never stops praising to his fellow men about the beauty of the red crab clan and the mesmerism that dwells below the sand in the complex network of tunnels. 

Reverie and Revera, they are always alert against any unusual human intervention. The moment a vibration is detected, the clan blows a trumpet of escape. The crabs would run away like anything. A commotion so contiguous that it appears a whole red patch on the ground is moving. One cannot spot exactly where Reverie and Revera are, but they are always monitoring the commotion. In sense of urgency, they run towards the red patch in danger and lead them to safety. Shambhu is very sharp. He seems to know a lot about these red crabs. When he is not fishing, he voluntarily enlightens tourists of these red crabs. I met Shambhu too, and he ensured that I remember my encounter with red crabs forever.

Soon after the sun ascended from the belly of the sea, Shambhu called me to the beach for a stroll. The sea waves were doing justice that day, and kept embracing our footsteps constantly as we walked. The red crab clan seemed busy in their daily routine to bathe in the chilly waves. Our footsteps alerted them soon and they chose to skip the bathing. Shambhu spoke of Reverie and Revera, that they must be watching both of us and the red patches running away in commotion.

“I am afraid of crabs, don’t they bite?”, I asked.

“You are afraid of crabs? These red crabs?” asked Shambhu surprisingly.

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me help you with your fear”, assured Shambhu.

I defer to share the drama that followed. But it happened. And at the end, I surrendered to Shambhu. I held a red one softly in my hand, careful enough that it doesn’t bite or pinch my fingers. The moment I released him on the sand, he ran fervently towards the sea.

I am sure Reverie and Revera would have watched this too from one of the many red patches around. I hope they were gratified that I handled one of their fellow with love and care. I hope the red crab clan would remember me like I am going to remember them forever.

PS: This post is part of a fiction that I weaved while taking a stroll on a chilly Februrary morning near Mohona Beach, West Bengal.

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Available For Rent in the Clouds

In the dense fog around, hardly anything to be seen. As if the whole surrounding is floating in the clouds. But I can see my small apartment soaked in the fog.

Yes, this is the one where I spent my last night.

My view is very much restricted. To be able to see some more, I need to muster courage and walk towards it, and then I can see the next restricted view unfold.

Birds have given up on laziness and are chirping while they work. They are chirping somewhere but nowhere to be seen. Insects are not behind, and they are competing the birds with the continuous buzzing in the bushes engulfed in the mist.

Trees sway intermittently, as the wind gushes through. And an ambience of drizzle is created by the trees.

Yarn ends in my cloth have been embraced by the fog too, and their lingering love is so enticing that my brisk walking has no effect on them.

As I walk some more, I hear the waves from the sea. There is a sea nearby, but everything is dissolved in the fog.

Only voices from waves I can hear, and my feet are moving obediently towards those voices.

My moving feet stands still as they touch the salty water, intensely cold, moving forward to brush my feet and retracing back.

My eyes which have moistened quickly from the cold, witness a new friend. Very shy and in a hurry to go away after greeting me. But how could I let him leave without his photograph?

This whole ambience is at rent. You come, you stay, and then you pack your bags and leave. It's time for me to leave.

Because neither my monetary affordability allows it, nor allows my workplace, to stay here any longer.

I need to get back to work and face the reality once again.

PS: This is a short tale of my experience at Sana Beach and Resort, Mandarmani, during early cold weeks of February.

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The Confines of Four Walls and a Roof

Within the confines of four walls and a roof, we create a sweet spot there for ourselves. That sweet spot makes us the most comfortable in this world. This comfort is not just about having the riches of world class furniture, soft cushions, air conditioners, or aesthetic lights in the room. Rather it is about the feeling of staying true to yourself and contented with whatever you have. This is the spot where you are free, and with your freedom you think, you plan, you work or relax and get ready for the next day.

The confines of four walls and a roof comes in different forms and make. A person’s monetary capacity and societal laws determine the form and make of this confinement. Monetary capacity because a person can afford and build his confinement according to how merrier their bank accounts are. Societal laws determine this too because there are few people put behind the bars. Everyone needs confinement of a room. In that room the person finds a sweet spot and slowly falls in love with it unknowingly. Even the homeless on streets are not deprived of this love. They have found their love below a bridge, under large precast drainage pipes, or inside a desolated confiscated car.

But is this love going to last forever? Yes, the love is going to last forever because if it’s “love” then by default it is going to last till the last breath is away. The places change, people at those places change, but the love one carries in their heart stays. May be for the sake of memoirs of the gone by days, or for the discovery of life experienced while staying at those places, this love finds a permanent place in our hearts. Every once in a while, like a cold gushing wind, this old love sinks taciturnly into your present confinement and tries to mingle with your newly found love.  

I see this charming young guy, dressed in an ironed and shiny uniform of a seven-star hotel, that he is wearing off from the work today. It seems he has been on his toes throughout the day, and barely got a chance to sit and unstrain his breath. He is waiting for his work shift to get over, and rush back to his chawl. Because his love for the sweet spot in his chawl room is calling him with open arms to have a cup of masala tea in the evening. Once he is back, he will be true to himself and free. He will be able to enjoy his tea to the fullest in his confinement.

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Amphan of Emotions at Shankarpur Beach

 

I was on the road trip towards Shankarpur Beach in West Bengal. This was nearly two years after the super cyclone Amphan hit coasts of India and Bangladesh. While I was on the way, I witnessed a group of people working on this Bay of Bengal sea coast.

I stopped for a while. They said that they were working to establish a structure at the coast which can withstand high tides and lessen the impact on the land and houses inhabited with people. It was painful to see houses around dilapidated with the wrath of the cyclone that came two years ago, and they were still not livable yet. Many have left the place and moved away as their houses were completely destroyed in the cyclone. But people working at the site were jubilant of the fact that now it will be safe as the tetra pods that they were installing will absorb the mighty waves of the sea. And they were also happy sharing the fact that very soon this coast line will be like Marine Drive, Mumbai. 

Listening to them, coupled with sounds of roaring sea in the air, my eyes travelled across and made me palpate to the power this massive water body holds within. We are too weak to control it, and yet we are trying hard. This is the nature of human after all; we try to control and conquer. Human can somehow tame the wild, but the wilderness cannot be completely polished off. The wilderness is going to stay there. And time to time it has showed that in the past.

With all these thoughts whirling in my mind, I wrote few lines to versify this Amphan of emotions - The Constant Incessant. Link to that blogpost is here.

I am sharing few photos that I clicked on my road trip towards Shankarpur Beach in this post. 

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The Constant Incessant

Raw, Wild and Mighty,

Its profusion of emotions,

Untamed incessantly.

With unveiling beauty of the moon,

It churns within and ascends,

As if tripping to a bereft tune.

When the sky shines at night

And stars mischievously party;

Here it roars on its plight.

Men want safety from the wrath,

And hence station the boulders,

Afraid of the devastation at aftermath.

Little does the little men know,

Voluminous insult it has drunken,

Beyond the thresholds of an ideal show.

The angry body had narrated its story

To the skilled oarsmen beating its chest,

And shared how it feels of the spoiling spree.

It warns every now and then,

That it is Raw, Wild and Mighty,

Its profusion of emotions

Untamed incessantly. 

Read about the Amphan of Emotions which led to creation of this post.

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