As the world rushed decisively towards the hour of first light, an assortment of creatures – some content and some unfulfilled, though all weary and wary – began making their way to the familiar sheltered warrens of the meadowland. The tall grasses, lithe yet resilient, set into motion a delightful dance with the rising morning breeze, their undulating manoeuvres a promising allure to the early grazers making their way into the pastures to dutifully fill their hollow rumen. In a short while bleary-eyed humans would come to gather sheaves of the tallest and thickest blades to cover their roofs. And wasn’t there a gossip on the winds that many affluent grasses in nearby opulent fields were yielding grains coveted by humans for sustenance? Through their mundane existence, the grasses had been true to their legacy – their bond with the Mother unceasing and infallible, their roots a dense, intricate and intimate net, binding the fine soil to terra firma. And as the sun flexed and extended its golden fingers over the rolling plains, the panicles, racemes and spikes rose with heads held high, basking in the glory of their destiny, knowing all too well that they were the blessed children of their Mother!
[In the frame: A grass spikelet basking in the first light]
– Narendra Nayak © 2021