In the early hours in Kottayam, at the J Yes farms at the lotus pond, the blazing sun was already rearing to set the wheels of time in motion. Either to prove its might like in a children’s fairy tale or an answer to man’s blindness. To force the light into those glazed eyes. It tapped awake the tiny tadpole, fishes, turtles, snails and snakes. Red eyes of rabbits cloaked in an unbearable white, love birds, goats, cows, buffaloes and man. Sleepy lotus buds and reeds, all eyes are awake; all in a chain reaction, like ripples in a pond.
Was it sunrise or sunset when the pair of ducks swam across? Either way the now abandoned, broken, kettuvallam lay in between, watching and waiting for someone to remember its story. It must have carried in its womb the laughter of children. It must have carried hopes and desires across. Earth, fruit, man and animal crossed over to the other side where the grass was greener. It must have let children balance on its spine, and must have shown them the horizon from it’s helm.
We didn’t see her first. And then slowly the filters lifted and we saw, we heard and we felt her as she lay there in her rickety bones. Between the sunrise and the moon rise, she lay looking at the horizon far away. It was hot, hot, hot and humid.