It was a cool summer evening on the northern tip of Norway. It had been a day of bright, warm sunshine. Now heavenly green lights had spread across northern skies. Earth and sun and sky were mating in exhilarating ecstasy. They were presenting a dance of lights. Green light with all its shade and al its mingling with blue was dancing in magnificence.
At the same time near northern tips of Antarctica, a snow storm was raging. On hundreds of feet of ice, engulfed in all white, white at feet and white all around, were penguins brazing the steely white storm. They were huddled together to keep themselves from freezing and to give as much warmth as possible to the eggs between their feet, They were taking turns to face the icy splashing of white on their backs, so that the rest can have some relative warmth. It was a battle between life and white. White was dancing a war dancing and was roaring a battle cry that was gushing sound of stormy winds and flakes. Maybe, it was not a battle but a fiery mating of great tigers. Life was a tigress, sitting idle in tender wild anticipation and white was the tiger wild with eagerness. Ecstatic love-roars were filled all around. Dance of love was manifesting all its prowess.
Over the thick green jungles of Assam, clouds had let all their hair down. They were dancing to loud music. Hard rock had filled all skies. With lightening their arm, clouds were dancing a frenzied staccato. Elighted with such a dance, river Brahmputra had spread her wings. She was dancing full speed through thick trees and elephant-high grass. Rain was rushing down all the way from skies to meet his beloved river and river was running full speed towards her soul-mate sea. Once again love was dancing one of its special dance.
River Narmada is called Holy Mother in central and western India. Her tender love embraces one and all that meet her. She was feeling that that her heart was shrinking, her emotions were running dry and she could not embrace her children with love and grace as she wanted to. She invited wind and clouds and rains to come to her assist. They responded almost immediately. It was a call of love they would not stay away from. It was this mother that had taught them tenderness of love. She had shown how you could be wild or you could be calm, but be loving in any case. So wind and clouds and rains came to her hand in hand. They started showering love. It was a showering different from the wild rush of emotions they were experiencing in Assam. Here was a mild drizzle that was slowly wetting Narmada’s body and her heart. She felt the love filling all her self. Her heart started widening again and touching her children. Trees were happy with their mother. They got greener to express their happiness and love. Mothers hugged children to their own hearts. Their hearts widened too. Wet emotions showered by wind and clouds and skies went into their hearts and expressed out through their eyes. These mother looked and Mother Narmada, they looked up at clouds and they looked all around towards wind and rains. Appreciation and love started flowing out of their eyes. This wetness merged with the wetness of rains and Narmada. Tender love was filled all around.
In the vast land of USA, thousands of acres of farms were sprouting. All sprouts were looking alike, exactly of same size, of same color and will give out exact grains. Man had made machines out of life. But he had succeeded in making machines out of the physical bodies. He could not touch souls. These souls had put hearts in these plants. These hearts each had smile and a tear. Each smile radiating different sparkle, each tear going different trickle. In this dance of smiles and tears arose those sprouts, though all of same size and shape and color, each with individual character. As these sprouts grow up, every sprout will put a different character in each of its grains. In time, man will be baffled to see diversity emerging out of his manufactured uniformity. Hearts know that in the symphony and harmony of its music, each instrument, every chord, each tune, every beat is unique. They are separate in togetherness.
we tend to call it 'same time different places'. But are these really different places. They are mere manifestations of dance of love. Dance with time and space, and expressions.
