Flash Post 214!

Button, Goa is beautiful.  But it is more beautiful now ever since the rains washed away the dust and grime from every leaf, every blade of grass, and the only thing you’ll see is every shade of green there is. And all you get to hear is the sound of the waves of the Arabian Sea crashing on the beach as it recedes leaving a foamy outline of where it broke before returning to the sea for the umpteenth time. That reminds me of the long-jump practice sessions in school where they would mark the farthest point we jumped till and the few who jumped the farthest qualified for the finals.

Lucky you. But back home in Mumbai, it’s also raining incessantly and, besides the vehicle honking and the occasional cursing hurled by drivers who get caught behind suddenly stalled vehicles, it’s pretty much quiet and, if you care to listen, you’ll hear the sound of rain falling in thick sheets and the occasional chirping of a stray bird that has come out to catch the fat earthworm for a fine-dining experience just in case the rains pause for a bit.

Almost 10-12 years back, when we brought my mother to Goa in the rains, I remember how much she had enjoyed herself. Today, at 90, unable to move around much after a nasty fall that cracked her skull besides some other injuries, she is housebound with very little to do and very confused.

I remember her when she came visiting when we were living at Usha Kiran as well as the current home.

Now see these two pictures I have clicked for you to see:

They’re lovely. The colours of the leaves are awesome and the first one even resembles a mammoth butterfly.