<p>The author of an article in a newspaper talked about the fact that since our planet is being destroyed, we need to find a new one —in which case, she enumerated the things about this earth that she would miss the most. It was a good exercise for me.<br /><br />What would I miss the most?<br />As she said emphatically, not her family or friends for she (like me) intended to take them with her.<br /><br />I would miss the lyrical trill of the red-vented bulbul as he sits cheekily with his cocked head on the branches of a tree overhanging my balcony. I would miss the green of the paddy fields in Kerala that I see as I sit on the veranda of my cottage in this treatment centre. And the sound of the Kerala monsoon with its accompanying croaks of frogs and cheeps of a myriad night insects as I lie snug in my bed inside.<br /><br />I would miss the nuances of the rains- the plop on the leaves of the plants, the fine patter on a grey morning, the heavy drumming on the rooftops, the split of lightning and the growl of the thunder, reverberating in the domed sky.<br /><br />I would miss the dance of the fireflies on an evening in Kodagu, the specks of dancing lights punctuating the darkness, in tune to the music of the spheres. I would miss watching crisp dosas being made, the sizzle of the batter as it touches the pan, the quick swirl outwards from the centre, seeing the concentric swirls grow under the ladle, the oil being drizzled lazily, the bubbles forming, the dosa being flipped on the other side, the sides crisping, soon to be folded into a delectable piece of ambrosia.<br /><br />I would miss the sights this earth has to offer to a traveller, the sunset and sunrise in Bali, the dexterity and ingenuity of the wooden palace in Padmanapbhapuram, the cobblestone roads of Prague with its golden baroque buildings, the grace of the Chennakesava temple in Somanathapura and rich magnificence of Airavatham in Tanjavur, the snow capped peaks of Afghanistan, the great empty niches in Bamiyan and imagining what it might have been in its days of glory, the limestone karst peaks in Guilin—the list is endless.<br /><br />I would miss the slow descent of eagles circling in the sky, the flock of parakeets like green confetti in the sky, the peace of Lake Washington where Canada geese gather and squawk, the lushness of flowering rhododendron, the glaciers calving in Alaska creating ice floes of transparent turquoise beauty.<br /><br />Coming to think of it, as the list grows under my hands fuelled by nostalgia and distilled from rich experience, why would I want to move to another planet? I do not see it being totally annihilated in my lifetime; therefore I will just continue making my list of blessings.<br /></p>
<p>The author of an article in a newspaper talked about the fact that since our planet is being destroyed, we need to find a new one —in which case, she enumerated the things about this earth that she would miss the most. It was a good exercise for me.<br /><br />What would I miss the most?<br />As she said emphatically, not her family or friends for she (like me) intended to take them with her.<br /><br />I would miss the lyrical trill of the red-vented bulbul as he sits cheekily with his cocked head on the branches of a tree overhanging my balcony. I would miss the green of the paddy fields in Kerala that I see as I sit on the veranda of my cottage in this treatment centre. And the sound of the Kerala monsoon with its accompanying croaks of frogs and cheeps of a myriad night insects as I lie snug in my bed inside.<br /><br />I would miss the nuances of the rains- the plop on the leaves of the plants, the fine patter on a grey morning, the heavy drumming on the rooftops, the split of lightning and the growl of the thunder, reverberating in the domed sky.<br /><br />I would miss the dance of the fireflies on an evening in Kodagu, the specks of dancing lights punctuating the darkness, in tune to the music of the spheres. I would miss watching crisp dosas being made, the sizzle of the batter as it touches the pan, the quick swirl outwards from the centre, seeing the concentric swirls grow under the ladle, the oil being drizzled lazily, the bubbles forming, the dosa being flipped on the other side, the sides crisping, soon to be folded into a delectable piece of ambrosia.<br /><br />I would miss the sights this earth has to offer to a traveller, the sunset and sunrise in Bali, the dexterity and ingenuity of the wooden palace in Padmanapbhapuram, the cobblestone roads of Prague with its golden baroque buildings, the grace of the Chennakesava temple in Somanathapura and rich magnificence of Airavatham in Tanjavur, the snow capped peaks of Afghanistan, the great empty niches in Bamiyan and imagining what it might have been in its days of glory, the limestone karst peaks in Guilin—the list is endless.<br /><br />I would miss the slow descent of eagles circling in the sky, the flock of parakeets like green confetti in the sky, the peace of Lake Washington where Canada geese gather and squawk, the lushness of flowering rhododendron, the glaciers calving in Alaska creating ice floes of transparent turquoise beauty.<br /><br />Coming to think of it, as the list grows under my hands fuelled by nostalgia and distilled from rich experience, why would I want to move to another planet? I do not see it being totally annihilated in my lifetime; therefore I will just continue making my list of blessings.<br /></p>
