The joy of creation..!

In front of me are mountains, clouds resting on them, I look at their sides gently tapering down to the valley below where the Krishna river flows unconcerned with grandeur above. From where I sit in an ancient balcony overlooking the valley and mountains I see trees of every green hue and colour. And from branches alongside come morning cries of a hundred birds, each cry so different, so wonderful to hear. It was a long drive yesterday to climb this place but with roads in India being what they are now, the experience was pleasurable, and what was once an eight hour drive was done in five, or less.
Maidstone, the bungalow nestling the cliff, which belongs to the family of an aunt of mine couldn't have been in a better location; what a view as nature lets me caress her, gives me glimpses of times when man breathed in air so pure, they intoxicate my poor lungs so used to petrol fumes.
My daughters come with their mother, stand with me and look at spectacular view I am becoming possessive about, I wonder what they're going to say, children of the city that they are, "Dad it's beautiful!" says the younger and then becomes quiet and in their silence I see that nature's awesomeness has touched their hearts.
And then the scream!
"What is it?" I shout, concerned.
"Look!" says my elder and points to the ground, where a hundred legs propel creature repulsive and fearsome. I take out my shoe and smash, it moves, I hit again and yet it tries to crawl ahead.
"It can't be killed!" shouts my elder.
"It can!" I say determined and hit it harder till it lies still, one last shiver before it dies. I use same shoe to scoop it out.
In front of me the same mountains, same clouds, same river, but suddenly mood has changed. There's fear in the room. The black centipede walked into peaceful setting like a terrorist with a bomb strapped onto itself.
"Why?" asks my little one, "why in the midst of such peace should such horror exist?"
I ponder awhile and as I wonder; the mountains, the valley, the river and the sounds suddenly seem to come closer. The joy which till now was far away comes to envelope me. The sounds of the birds, the squirrels running on the roof, the sight of purple flowers so divine in its beauty make me sigh with contentment. I look at dead centipede and suddenly realize sadly we need the horror of terror to appreciate fully the joy of creation. Terror makes us realize the thankfulness of being alive. Evil makes me long for good. Sorrow makes me grateful for happiness.
The mountains smile as if I've understood a truth only poisonous centipede could tell me..!      
                         
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The joy of creation..!

In front of me are mountains, clouds resting on them, I look at their sides gently tapering down to the valley below where the Krishna river flows unconcerned with grandeur above. From where I sit in an ancient balcony overlooking the valley and mountains I see trees of every green hue and colour. And from branches alongside come morning cries of a hundred birds, each cry so different, so wonderful to hear. It was a long drive yesterday to climb this place but with roads in India being what they are now, the experience was pleasurable, and what was once an eight hour drive was done in five, or less. Maidstone, the bungalow nestling the cliff, which belongs to the family of an aunt of mine couldnt have been in a better location; what a view as nature lets me caress her, gives me glimpses of times when man breathed in air so pure, they intoxicate my poor lungs so used to petrol fumes. My daughters come with their mother, stand with me and look at spectacular view I am becoming possessive about, I wonder what theyre going to say, children of the city that they are, Dad its beautiful! says the younger and then becomes quiet and in their silence I see that natures awesomeness has touched their hearts. And then the scream! What is it? I shout, concerned. Look! says my elder and points to the ground, where a hundred legs propel creature repulsive and fearsome. I take out my shoe and smash, it moves, I hit again and yet it tries to crawl ahead. It cant be killed! shouts my elder. It can! I say determined and hit it harder till it lies still, one last shiver before it dies. I use same shoe to scoop it out. In front of me the same mountains, same clouds, same river, but suddenly mood has changed. Theres fear in the room. The black centipede walked into peaceful setting like a terrorist with a bomb strapped onto itself. Why? asks my little one, why in the midst of such peace should such horror exist? I ponder awhile and as I wonder; the mountains, the valley, the river and the sounds suddenly seem to come closer. The joy which till now was far away comes to envelope me. The sounds of the birds, the squirrels running on the roof, the sight of purple flowers so divine in its beauty make me sigh with contentment. I look at dead centipede and suddenly realize sadly we need the horror of terror to appreciate fully the joy of creation. Terror makes us realize the thankfulness of being alive. Evil makes me long for good. Sorrow makes me grateful for happiness. The mountains smile as if Ive understood a truth only poisonous centipede could tell me..! [email protected]