a wave

There was a wave.
In the vastness of the sea, in its depths and in its greatness there was this one wave.
It was not too long, it was not too fat,
it was neither too violent, nor was it too silent.
He was not too tall, neither was it too small,
it was not that noisy, it was not also always busy.
It was little restless, and a little nervous but not unlike any other wave.

It was very curious though; its head full of questions. It kept asking one or the other of these questions, Do you know where you are going? Do you know where am I going? Do you know why?
Why does not the sea speak back to me? Who makes these pictures in the sky? When do I get to touch the red, er.. orange oh no yellow ball, and when do I get to touch the white ball that comes out when I can not see anything. Where am I going? For how long?
It asked the other waves, the big ones, the small ones, it asked the birds that flew across, it asked the ships, it asked the dolphins that jumped across it.
Some of them looked at him strangely, some shooed him away, some fell silent after listening to his questions, some even got angry and some just ignored him.

He recollected, when it was very young and started out from the bosom of the sea, though it did not exactly remember how, and had been moving forward for a long long time, it saw something different. He saw some movements he was not familiar with, he saw things he had not seen before, he saw very very big ships that the people called homes or was it hotels, he saw very tall people with very long hairs that they called trees-were not they normal people, its just that they chose to move only their hair now and then. He saw waves that were ahead of him slowing down and meeting the shore.
More importantly he saw something that was not SEA.

He thought he would get answers to all his questions. This is it. The end. No return from here. Final stop. No more of rising and falling and rising and falling again and again. No more traveling without knowing where. That was what he thought.
He was so wrong. As he touched the shore, he remembered how helplessly he was pulled back to the sea, and a few repetitions of pulling and tussling, he was back finally to what he knew he always was - part of the sea.
Since the, he has visited many shores, seen many beaches, many lands, many times over and learnt much more, but he could never forget the feelings he had when he saw the shore for the first time, the eagerness and the helplessness.

He looked up ahead, he could sense some movements again, he could see the tall ships from a distance, he could see the rocks, people-trees and people. He took and deep breath, one hard look at the sea and it was ready, ready for one more time.

three people and four stanzas

When lost in the ocean of life,
a friend is a beacon of light,
and ensures the shore is never out of sight.

Words: mere carriers of thought
Expressions: just manifestations of thought
But when silence speaks the lot
Your friend is your family long lost.

When wars are fought and battles are lost.
when the days are full of desperate thoughts
and you want a place for your tears to burst;
Remember your friends, and you will never feel lost.

When time and distance cease to matter and
crutches of words not needed to send messages through.
Know that you speak the language of love,
Know that your friendship is true !!

(Well now, this is a joint poem : contributers Narasingh, Chinmay and yours truely.
I am not going to point out which lines were contributed by whom, as it hardly matters to the world which flower in a bouquet sends out what smell, it is the smell in totality that matters. I need not tell how am I related to them, because it is too obvious and I really can not exactly.)