The River

It was a sunny day. A warm breeze was trying to announce the arrival of summer. I was lying in a hammock among tall pines on the bank of a melodious river. Sidney Sheldon’s Windmills of the Gods was open on my phone. where it read,

 “Just remember, when someone has an accent, it means that he knows one more language than you do.”

Of course there are many accents and dialects across the globe, but plants, too, have their own language and expressions. Tall pine trees around the hammock form their own fraternity and they smile and sing to each other. One tells the other that “nature has so much in store that water in the river keeps running, sun keeps shining, nights keep returning and we are standing here for so long.” The other tree answers, “Yes, you are right. But the dwellers of these homes change sporadically. Their stay with us is temporary yet they disturb our peace so much. They cut and trim our colleagues, mow the grass, kill many of us to fulfill their own needs. They bring stinking charcoal to make roads. They paint their homes with dangerous chemicals. Constantly their vehicles emit killer gases. Their air conditioners emit hydrofluorocarbons, which are very harmful to the environment.”

“Yes,” replies the tree again, “you are right.”

“On the other hand they grow beautiful flowers, plant cute shrubs, they nourish them, the smell of their food is so great, they also provide us clean ground. They blow off fallen leaves, save us from diseases. Their contribution is rewarding as well.” 

In the meantime the river begins to add more music to their duet. What a mesmerizing sound the running water makes in the great company of pebbles. It has its own accent—and so too do the stones. I can hear birds singing to the tunes of them all. Squirrels came to dance and a couple of turkeys are hitting their beaks hard against the ground as if adding a percussive sting. I simply stick to the rhythm of my breathing, realizing that a human sound—no matter how melodious it might be—can scare them. At this stage I must remain an audience. And focus on trying to hear what they say. What message are they attempting to relay? 

I don’t want to comprehend their lyrics, nor do I want to translate anything into my language. I simply want to become one of them: to be a humble part of their choir. The running water, shining sun, cool breeze, tall trees, singing birds, dancing squirrels, knocking turkeys, grazing deers, and a peaceful human will make this planet much prettier than before. We can be there like they all are there. And that may be the ultimate song of harmony the earth longs for. 

“Like a shadow I am and I am not.”

Rumi

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Published by Morning with Golf

Golfer, entrepreneur, author, blogger, wanderer, photographer

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: