A gargantuan face of a woman on one of the walls added to the beauty of the garden. The Charbagh garden at the British Council pulled me with an unknowing force to have a stroll around the area. The incomprehensible face of that woman seemed as if it was specially made to depict nothing more than a usual architectural structure. The water just beneath the wall of the fountain was fresh and provided a soothing experience. When I scooped my palm into the water, I could clearly see my hand through it confirming its freshness. To the left of the garden were the uniformly trimmed bushes that acted as a divider between the teaching area and the garden. In between the bushes was a row of splendiferous flowers with their soft petals. As the wind blew, those flowers appeared more vibrant than ever. In the middle of the garden, four rectangular slabs were arranged in a rectangular array surrounding a water tank. I sat at one of the slabs to enjoy the beauty of nature and hear the voices of the birds chirping with joy above me. Just beneath my feet was the lush green grass- All-damp due to its intense care at the campus and I could smell the moist earth without making an effort. In the early morning hours, the garden was gently watered by the staff of the place. I would now always find a reason to have a stroll around the garden to smell the moist earth, touch the soft petals, see the electrifying colors and hear the voices of chirpy birds.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Charbagh
Somewhere in August I had joined a creative writing course to accentuate my 'null skills' in writing at the British Council. The course is, well, too amazing. Beware!!!! of the British accent that the teachers there have. It sometimes drives you nuts because there's always clash of thoughts and conflicts arise every now and then. However, till now I don't know that it benefited me or not. I think I should leave it on my accented teacher Mat Edmunds who will conduct a counselling session on the last class of the course: Friday. Using your senses to describe the places around you, setting the plot, creating the character, writing screenplays and what not. It looks like a die-hard course for the writers, but somewhere down the line I'm ashamed to call myself a writer or I love to be ashamed. I really don't know where my future in writing lies.
Still I'd proudly present you one of the piece of writings to you.
The Charbagh at the Council- It's more of a smoking area than a garden. Well, I was asked to describe that garden including all my senses. I hope reading it makes you feel that all my senses are intact and working. lolz...
It looks like I were in heaven. hahaha.
But let me tell you that the beauty of the nature lies in your heart. If your heart is nice and clean then you'll always see everything pure, no matter if it's a smoking arena or a dumping zone. ( Better that you don't smoke- It kills)
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Some time in August, I had joined a creative writing course to accentuate my 'null skills' in writing at the British Council. The course is, well, too amazing. Beware!!!! of the British accent that the teachers there have. It sometimes drives you nuts because there's always clash of thoughts and conflicts arise every now and then. However, I still don’t know if it has benefited me, or not. I think I should leave it on my accented teacher Mat Edmunds who will conduct a counseling session in the last class: Friday. It is a die-hard course for new writers: Using your senses to describe the places around you, setting the plot, creating the character, writing screenplays and what not- they teach everything.
However, somewhere down the line I'm ashamed to call myself a writer. Maybe, I love to be ashamed. I really don't know where my future in writing lies.
Still I proudly present to you one of my piece of writings.
Charbagh is a garden inside the premises of the British Council- full of trees and flowers and grass. Ironically though, it is more of a smoking area than a garden. Well, I was asked to describe that garden using all my senses. I hope reading it makes you feel that all my senses are intact and working. lolz...
A gargantuan face of a woman on one of the walls added to the beauty of the garden. The Charbagh garden at the British Council pulled me with an unknowing force to have a stroll around the area. The incomprehensible face of that woman seemed as if it was specially made to depict nothing more than a usual architectural structure. The water just beneath the wall of the fountain was fresh and provided a soothing experience. When I scooped my palm into the water, I could clearly see my hand through it confirming its freshness. To the left of the garden were the uniformly trimmed bushes that acted as a divider between the teaching area and the garden. In between the bushes was a row of splendiferous flowers with their soft petals. As the wind blew, those flowers appeared more vibrant than ever. In the middle of the garden, four rectangular slabs were arranged in a rectangular array surrounding a water tank. I sat at one of the slabs to enjoy the beauty of nature and hear the voices of the birds chirping with joy above me. Just beneath my feet was the lush green grass- All-damp due to its intense care at the campus and I could smell the moist earth without making an effort. In the early morning hours, the garden was gently watered by the staff of the place. I would now always find a reason to have a stroll around the garden to smell the moist earth, touch the soft petals, see the electrifying colors and hear the voices of chirpy birds.
It looks like I was in heaven. Hahaha.
But let me tell you that beauty of nature lies in your heart. If your heart is clean and pure, you'll always see everything more beautifully; doesn't matter if it's a smoking arena or a dumping zone. (Better that you don't smoke- It kills!)
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