African Nostalgia

 Almost fifteen years back I had the opportunity of spending some time in Africa. It’s a beautiful landmass with still more beautiful people, simple, elegant and very much close to nature; a world slightly off the nature-mankind crossroads. There mother nature is yet to be fully tamed by the mankind and that makes it an exotic land. There is a teasing tussle between the forces of nature and the human response to it, a kind of exorbitant ambiguity about life and living. All this makes this planet exotic in multilayered proportions; almost epical.

Platinum people and gold people, with rubies and pearls shining in their eyes, might see perfect heaven in the developed cities of the Western world but for a poetic soul the night’s slow-paced ambience, starry silence, palm-dotted misty verdancy are far more pricy than high-rise apartments, malls and swanky cars. To me the lost mists in pristine forests and scentless flowerbeds are far bigger losses than golden treasures. To me Africa with its hunger, its clear skies, its beautiful dark people with flashy smiles and its wildlife spins out a chequered legacy that will help the future poets weave their nostalgic fancies.

However, the sun at noontime shone so brightly overhead as if it would drill a hole in the scalp with a red-hot iron rod. Now looking at the atmosphere in the northern Indian plains here, when the temperature hovers dangerously close to 50°C, it reminds me of those African noons. And we are thousands of kilometers to the north on the globe. Do we still need to shout about the risks of global warming? It’s largely written all over the wall. It’s high time that we rein in our unchecked profligacy and expeditiously vicious ways in pursuit of our never-ending desires.