A date with Autumn

I felt like being in the lap of bliss

Parveez Sajad Ganai
Srinagar, Publish Date: Oct 22 2017 10:58PM | Updated Date: Oct 22 2017 10:58PM
A date with AutumnFile Photo

It is a late September morning with the sun shining to its full luminosity and expression, occupying a part of eastern sky leading one to have a date with absolute bliss. A few patches of cumulous like thick molasses are not able to arrest the clarity of the day. The countryside has already bid goodbye to Summer; lugubrious and bleak, and opened its bosom to embrace the bride in rags, the autumn.

I am sitting near the mouth of a field which is caressing the fruiting crop of paddy. The corns appear to be in ecstasy and waving to the dictates of an unknown breeze coming from a distant land. It also brushes against my face sensitising my dull brains so that I could appreciate the nature and autumn. At the far end the horizons with snow clad mountains seem to be guarding the bride like fields.

The autumn carries in itself a strange melancholy, a pain embedded in ecstasy. It has a transportive power to take us to a past which never existed and to a future which is impossible to realize and assures a rendezvous with a beloved which never has existed. One’s mind seems to be as clear as the air above the fields ready to absorb pain and joy in equal equanimity. I feel some unknown force has made me stationary and put me in inertia to give company to the russet paddy stalks and watch the preying birds that are busy stealing the kernels out of the paddy corns and to the sweet melancholy that pervades the air. I have turned oblivious to the dark tragedies of my ghostly valley.

The stream flowing on the other side across the field with its water dancing in the flow also appears to be sanguine and majestic. Its waters toss against the little stones and get splashed over the grey and greenish verdure on the banks. The pointed leaves of the decaying grass appear to be in a conspiracy with the infant sun rays to give the little droplets of water an appearance of pearls and emeralds hanging from the necklace of a Roman princess. The feeding verdure on the zigzag banks of the stream with watery shine presents an enchanting look.

To my right is an orchard where children in rags are picking apples and depositing them in to willow baskets hanging on the branches of these trees. While watching them these verses from Robert Frost’s poem “The Apple Picking” dance on the firmament of my world of imagination” 

        “What form my dreaming was about to take

         Magnified apples appear and disappear,

         Stem end and blossom end,

        And every fleck of russet showing clear.

        Of apple-picking: i am overtired 

       Of the great harvest i myself desired.


There is a complete harmony between various components of nature and it appears that all the mysteries of the cosmos stand unravelled to infuse joy and tranquillity into the world. The beauty of nature like the essence of god remains unaffected with the passage of time.

While I was moving towards a nearby willow groove I found myself hypnotised by the humming of cicadas and crickets amid the cadence of falling needle shaped willow leaves on the ground. As I rested my back against the stem of an old willow, a pair of cicadas sat on my shoulder. I felt as if I had just returned from a date with heaven. The ambiance was so mesmerizing that my mind couldn’t resist taking refuge in some distant memory of past.

As children were busy picking apples my sight did not fail to see some sheep sitting on the grass with their eyes semi closed regurgitating. There was a definite pattern in the way they rested each other’s heads and tossing their ears. They were ensconcing and enviously peaceful. At the other end were some popular trees with  huge canopies of green foliage above them and looking like a microcosm for thousands of birds dancing on their branches’.

While being a silly observer of the game of this enchanting nature my hand rose to salute the great bard, Keats, who in his “Ode to Autumn” wrote,

‘’Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,     

Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples and moss’d cottage-trees,

And fill all fruits with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,...............

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