Fluid World;When I was Four

Drop by drop you came into my being. You summer rain, you winter shower, you monsoon downpour, I just remembered my home, when I was four… the creaking door and geraniums… hard stone floor… fathers rose garden, that is no more… It’s a fluid world. There was a storm. Sublime! Dark skies! Angry Clouds! The wrath of Gods! Grandmother’s stories and the invisible shield of superstition… there were many rains, but there was the one, that was followed by the first overwhelming experience of ‘freshness’. This was the feeling of language descending into the realm of feeling. I breathe again, I feel my heart healing. It’s a fluid world. Life has countless moods. I’ve stopped counting.



  1. and so it continues…you simply amaze and tickle me at the same! Reading you Prashant gives a person so much to think about if they want and I do always want. Your photos are beyond compare! jeez! If you do get any better I could cry!

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