Happy grass.
You are sitting by the lagoon. All alone, with your consciousness. The wind-blown across the lagoon makes a constant tickle on your face. The group of crows arguing with each other in nearby trees. The eagles, on the other hand are circling very high, up above everything. Below the gloomy evening sky. They travel solo. Just like you this evening. Surely, they have the majestic view. If only. If only they possess the power of your observation. Looking at the chaotic waves, which makes a constant chatter, you turn towards the bank. Notice the small grass flowers which happily sway in the wind. In full harmony with each other, they look like a group of dancers. And you notice the happiness, is just there, in the grass.
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Happiness was there in the grass.
I remember times when I was a tiny kid. I was one of the smallest in the class. We used to go to school early, and before the school officially started, we played in the ground. The one ground was occupied by many children. Often, ones in middle or higher classes, would play in the middle. I did not mind playing on the sides of the ground. There were plenty of thick grass in the periphery of the ground. Unlike in the middle, we could even roll over in it, without getting too much dirt in our school uniform. The grass was grown. For a child only few feet tall, it was like a jungle. I often imagined myself it is a jungle. We used to jump around, playing "ICE -WATER" on the slopes of the ground which were heavily greenish with grass. Tiny yellow flowers blossomed in these parts, attracting small bees and insects. These were the best times of the day. I remember going to the class once the bell rang, with full of sweat, on hot days. It made it difficult, to go through the first period with all the adrenaline rushing through the body. But I could not stop playing the next day.
Sometimes when nobody was watching we would tie two bunches of grass together. And make miniature traps. We used to walk, like we haven't seen them and step into them. We would roll over, like the traps did work, imitating someone fall. I cannot remember a day, where somebody really got trapped and fell. Why would that make me happy? Was I cruel? to see someone fall. I think maybe, it brings a same sensation as someone catching a fish, if it did ever work.
Grass here, Grass there, Grass everywhere.
I can write a whole day on grass. I am not bosting. Not at all I am a botany student, Neither I am a Cow! But I know I have been with grass and remember the times we spent together than both of them. Like, when the grass leaves are dry, I used to delicately separate small rectangular peace of its leave and balance it in my fingertip, to make a temporary fan. Once it is glued with a drop of saliva, I could run and make it spin! What a marvelous fun. Imagine you can be happy. Just being with grass. Try it next time, when you go to the park!
Grass, is here, Grass is there, Grass is everywhere. Where is happiness found?
Where is happiness found?
Sometimes it brings me tears, when I know, that me myself is responsible for killing the child in me. Then I think, maybe it was bound to happen. After all the grass is still there, in the ground. Children still play. How can I teach my kid, the happiness can be in Grass, McDonald's or KFC? Would they ever believe?
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