Green, Gold and some more

Shirali Raina
Today was a cold December morning, the household was struggling to be fully awake and I was in no mood to leave the warm comfort of my bed. The playlist was switched on and gradually warmed up the backdrop to the mundane morning routine. Sting came on and had me humming to his ‘ Fields of Gold’ unmindfully, bustling around till something halted me midway. I rewound to the last few lines and time stopped.
“Many years have passed since those summer days among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down among the fields of gold
You’ll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold, when we walked in fields of gold”.
Our house in Baramulla stood in a beautiful setting, lush green paddy fields on one side, spreading verdantly as far as the eye could go and then the gently rolling hills beyond it, fruit orchards nestled here and there , laden with their bounties and behind the house, only a short distance away was the Jhelum, wide,deep and quiet.It was nothing short of magic to wake up on a summer morning, stroll to the verandah and breathe in this loveliness, the air would be gentle and the earth benevolent. This was the beauty that got ingrained into my childhood and became a benchmark of sorts for all my grown up travels, to many other beautiful places.
The more  I see the bleakness of my surroundings in this concrete city, the more my mind’s eye veers to the past. There has not been a single time when at the end of a particularly stressful day, I have not had a dream of being back in those paddy fields. Sometimes I am running gleefully and sometimes strolling along but always and always it feels so real that I could reach out and feel the roughness of the stalks beneath my hands.
It was a learning in itself, although unknowingly at that age,to  see the land go through the cycle of life and death. Come early spring and the farmers would start preparing the soil to embrace a new life,driving the oxen over and over the land till the rough wintered surface gave way to soft turned earth.
How the little girl longed to sink her bare feet in the soil and clutch  the softness of the new earth!The tilled circular patterns would appeal to the childlike mind and she would try to read more into them, imagination came for free.
And then suddenly one morning she would wake up to lilting voices….it was now the turn of the womenfolk to join their men in the fields. Rows of them bent from the waist, moving step by step as if in a choreographed rhythm, one sapling at a time, one new life at a time. Even as a ringside spectator,it was a joy for her to see their bonhomie and camaraderie.
As warmer days set in, some of the children would get together every evening and walk through these paddy fields. The fragile looking saplings would grow taller and before the children knew they found themselves in the midst of a vast green alive carpet, that swayed and rustled with every swing of the breeze. The sleepy frogs would jump and croak in alarm as the she raced and ran with her friends,scratching her legs,feeling the warm breeze on her upturned face. The children would walk in a single file on the edge of the narrow irrigation channels, challenging one another not to fall in and then sit down to splash their dusty feet in the cool water,not knowing how priceless these memories were going to be in the later grown up years.
Time has to march on, it cannot indulge us forever. So the little girl watched tirelessly as the seasons changed and the green slowly ripened into a sea of gold.The earth had thrown up its treasures once again for the mankind.No painter’s brush could truly replicate the hues of that gold. Indeed as the song goes, the sun too would have been jealous looking down from the autumnal sky.
While she marveled at this glorious landscape, she would become a little morose too. She knew this was the end. The harvesting would begin soon and snatch away this vista from her. She almost resented the harvesters as they sliced through the fields mercilessly, same fields they had tended to so lovingly only a few months ago,hated them for baring the earth  and would wonder in her young heart how could love beget such cruelty.
Of course many many years later I learnt that it is the survival that is the foremost instinct and all other emotions arise from it or after it.
I remember staring fiercely at the rough land exposed with its ugly stubbles everyday till a gradual acceptance would set in. I would slowly start to look forward to the new spring and wait for the magic to set in for the next year.
Unknown to me,this patch of land had taught my young self and probably many others too, the first lessons in acceptance of the inevitable,the warmth of hope and optimism, and the cosmic cycle of birth,death and rebirth.
I visited my erstwhile home almost five years ago after a gap of more than two decades. It was a warm July so I looked forward to seeing the green paddy fields in full bloom and warm memories kept me company for the one hour drive from the airport.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted my eyes. Not a single blade of paddy, not a single field. Houses , climbing over each other, had claimed the entire area.I stood there, shocked and unable to register this changed landscape. Mankind had surely earned a debt from the earth!
The fierce gaze of my childhood returned. This time I refused to accept the change or look beyond it. I felt cheated, cold and resentful. Shoulders slumped, I dragged my feet to the awaiting taxi. The young driver sensed my shock and raised his arms to the skies, mutely communicating the God’s will to me.
I closed my eyes and willed the green and gold to capture my mind. The picture had disappeared, all that I could see was the stark reality. I felt bereft at the loss of one of my most prized possessions.
It took me several months to accept the new images in my mind and disassociate them from the negative emotions that I had attached to them. I learnt to let go.
Research shows that happiness is not a continuous state and that achieving happiness also involves going through a period of discomfort.I, slowly and truly, also  learned,as is often quoted, that happiness is an inside job.Memories are built around a context but happiness lies in the mind.
Now, I carry my fields of green and gold and some more, with me. My solace does not need a physical mooring.
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