It is not that I am not attracted to or by nature’s bounties. Pardon the double negative. Lakes calm me down; I want to sit before a still lake and quieten the frayed nerves. Mountains immobilize my thoughts, and the snow freezes them. Even thinking of these mind-doctors can give me the same sensation and pleasure. A flowing river reminds me of the soul that keeps doing its duties without favors or biases and keeps moving towards the ultimate goal. Oceans make me aware of the boundless energy within and how to expend it within limits. The colors and hues of the flowers and plants, their myriad shapes, speak the language of love and peaceful existence within chaos.

Yet I don’t SEEM to enjoy any of these. Note the word seem. It is not that I don’t enjoy, but to others, it seems so. Why?

I was born with partial color-blindness. Like, for instance, I found it difficult to differentiate between black and red. In spite of that, in whatever shade I saw the colors as, I was fascinated and enjoyed the feast. Color is a perception of the mind rather than what it is. So, whatever my mind perceives, I accept and love. That is why, whenever I choose my clothes, I leave it to my family members. How will I know how the colors look to others or if a particular color is as I perceive?

I don’t mind that. Anyway, I don’t have any preference for clothes or fuss too much about style.

When we moved into our first own house, there was a fair bit of ground around the house. My wife and my father too had an interest in gardening. To be frank, I didn’t know much about gardening except watering the plants. But whatever house we have lived in, we have had some plants.

In the new house, we had planted around five coconut trees and even some plantains. Of course, flowers. In the front were two sunflower plants. They grew fast and stood like royal soldiers on either side as you entered the house. The bright yellow flowers were a treat to watch. I cannot give any reason, but I loved these plants. They looked so majestic. Occasionally, I would take up the watering job. Apart from watering the roots, I would gently spray the leaves with water too, and the leaves would appear to wake up and bustle with energy. This delighted me.

After I left Chennai and came back, this part of my activity was totally gone as I immersed myself in official work.

Continued in 231. Lost Kaleidoscope - Part 2