Home PageCopyright of the text and the images with Arun Gaur© 2010 Arun Gaur Leaf & the Sand of Khuri / Rajasthan / Tripolia-Exploring India-Arun Gaur’s Indian Landscape Images
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The leaves slither and their shadows slither on the slant of the dunes.A350, tripod and primary lens—the beercan |
(October-2009)
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Twigs are broken. Wind came and broke the twigs in the desert. And they lie scattered everywhere. Wherever I go, these twigs I find. They would fire up and the food would be cooked. These little bits of dryness would give me food when they would be thrown into fire. |
The yellow leaf falls from the tree. It falls near its base. The stem of the tree comes out of the sand. Its leaves I thought to be poisonous. But here there is no poison. The dryness of the sand and the wind washes off the poison. The shade given by the poisonous leaves is good. I would recline under it and take shelter and when the sun bends more, I will proceed to the thani of the deserted huts and houses.
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So dark is the shade of the tree. Beyond the golden sand sizzles and then the light blueness of the sky. The venomous leaf has fallen off the tree and blown by the wind it has got entangled in the tree. The light filters through it and becomes a little yellowish.
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Leave are yellow. The sun sheds its own yellow leaves through the gaps in the leaves of the trees. All leaves lie and rest on the flatness of the sand under the venomous tree that gives me the sheltered life. The golden leaves of the tree mingle with the golden leaves of the sun and darkness is their matrix.
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Leaves are no more golden but they slither as translucent darkness on the slopes of the golden sand. The little toddlers of the sands have traversed their corrugated paths on the surface of the golden sand. They have left their clear marks on the surface of the sand and then disappeared. Leaves throw their shadows on the golden leaves on the sands.
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They rear their heads like the fangs of upright creatures of the depths of the earth. They are the flowers of the sands.
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One leaf remained sticking in the crevice of branches. It stayed before me. It asked me to stare and stare its yellow blood. It has beautiful yellow poison. Its vein is green. The branches have carefully, tenderly held it in their harsh embrace.
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The yellow leaf fell from the tree and the sun ray struck it and the ray also struck the base of the stem of the tree. The leaf floats in the dark ocean of sand and tree bark reminds me of the hide of the crocodile.
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This leaf refuses to fall down. It has no green vein, but its hue is delicate cream. . It has tightly engulfed the twigs. It has rolled itself around the slenderness.
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The shades would go on creeping. They will search out the well-thoght paths.
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They will slither up or creep up with a determination of the sand of the desert. There is no stopping of them.
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And when the time is ripe, when it is an opportune moment, they will elongate their necks, spruce themselves up and rush forward upward. Excelsior. They stretch their wings almost abnormally. I thought their shades had gathered enormous power to go up the slopes. I find their feet dig into the sands but they effortlessly lift them up and climb. They are the creatures of the sand.
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