I have always felt a sense of ownership about early mornings. Having always been an early riser I regard mornings as my personal fief where any presence other than mine is a dilution of that magical beauty which only I ought to have access to. I want no human mediation between the seductions of Nature and I. Perhaps there is a deeper psychology at work here, but I want early mornings and everything that unfolds within the non-human realms at that time to be exclusively for my edification.
I am acutely aware of the epic conceit of what I am saying but I am saying it anyway because it feels good. Within the seductions of early mornings, I am captivated by the interplay between the visual and the poetic—the visual outside and the poetic within. Take for instance, my morning walk today. As the sun was rising with what seemed like its own tobacco filter, on seeing the long shadows of the trees, the following two verses were born immaculately. It was as if they were fully constructed before they came out. That happens with me very frequently and when that it happens, I let those verses come out unedited and unfiltered. I say unedited because I do not particularly like the second line of the first verse where shadows remind me of someone. That is rather trite poetically, but I have let that remain.
The verses were born instantly when I saw the trees cast early morning shadows under a yellow, tobacco light. (See the picture). That is what I mean by the interplay between the visual and the poetic in my life.
यह लम्बे होते साये
यह गहरे होते साये
अक्सर दोनों मुझको
तुम्हारी याद दिलाये
सुबह लगती है मुझको
अपनी जागीरदारी
जहाँ बस मैं हूँ और
ओर कोई न आये
**
These lengthening shadows
These deepening shadows
They both remind me of you
Mornings are my fiefdom
Where only I exist
Untrammeled by any other
--Mayank Chhaya
