The Green Lyre Sings the Strains of Life
Taken at Vimercate, Lombardy, Milan, last year during a management offsite

The Green Lyre Sings the Strains of Life

Thoughts that matter, mostly comes in as a singular lightning on a clear summer afternoon. And it strikes with an impact to have us all scurry back into our armchairs, beside the warming hearth, to ponder more on the bolt from the skies that let a storm loose in us ...

A year back, strolling through the woods of Vimercate, breathing in the overpowering fragrance of earth was a 'lightning on a summers day' moment, wanting me to rush in and think of how fast the unblemished woods are disappearing back home, axed by our own surmounting desires.

From USSR’s manned Vostok to India’s unmanned Chandrayaan 2, when a spacecraft rockets up through the clouds, to make friends with the stars, we are wowed beyond compare.

From mining and ore processing to chemical manufacturing, when massive industrial projects are set up in the unblemished corners of the globe, we ride the silver cloud of developmental pride.

From the Jeddah Tower to Burj Khalifa, when the human desire to wake up amidst the clouds take shape, we feel as powerful as the Jurassic mammoths.

From the sophisticated streets of Tokyo to the bustling streets of Mumbai, as urbanization continues its unstoppable trek to the summits, we gasp in blissful disbelief.

We are wowed, oblivious of our own blindness, in seeing the gnawed, mildewed, oily canvas we are passing on as a baton to our children.

It's all become a transfigured farce beyond compare these days.

Machine made haze pulling its blinding brown hoods on cities.

An unnerved climate going on an unpredictable roller-coaster ride.

Intense flash-floods and scorching heat waves becoming a routine.

Icebergs crashing into waves and a fauna crying out pleading for help.

Sea levels rising to wipe off populated markings on the map.

The ugly songs, of the aftermaths of our mindless doings, are being heard louder each day.

It’s not just about stories of awe that unravel in the midst of the world’s populated terrains, but rather also about the benumb plastic claws stretching out under the blue depths of the world oceans.

Only a green lyre shall sing the strains of life and bliss. Listening to it is just one thing. Dancing to the tune, with your heart, is what truly matters.

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