Tag Archives: Words and Images

Garden of the Gods

Garden of the Gods, acrylic on canvas by Simi K. Rao

It certainly is The Garden of the Gods. Located in Colorado Springs, Colorado, about 70 miles south of Denver, this natural park features majestic ancient sedimentary rock formations that once were at the bottom of the sea. Starting in the Pleistocene Ice Age, this area is the result of millions of years of glaciation and erosion. There are many unique formations to see such as ‘balanced rock’, ‘Siamese Twins’ to name a few and many trails to hike and guess what, access is free! What more can one ask for? So, if you happen to be in the Denver area, be sure to pay a visit.

Of Times Past – Weekends

Original acrylic on paper by Simi K. Rao

She was trying to keep up, through a perspective of arms and legs, holding on to her mother’s hand.

Hurry c’mon. We will be late for the matinee!

It was the weekend. Family fun time. They spent it outside…going to the movies, sometimes two shows in one day, her dad being a big movie buff. They started early after a light breakfast of bread and jam, or idlis if she was lucky. Mom made the batter from scratch. Idlis were her favorite and she could have them anytime-breakfast, lunch or dinner. Fluffy soft, white like snow, dipped in savory sambhar with fresh coconut chutney on the side, so yummy and wholesome. She preferred them to dosas- they gave her a stomach ache.

They rush to the theater and get the tickets, they always do somehow.

They were no movie ratings in India at the time, except perhaps an A certificate for the adults-only ones. Rather they were all PG or parental guidance. Her dad took her to them all- comedy, horror, mystery, thriller, good, bad. She rarely got the plot, she was so young. The movies didn’t interest her really, rather it was the moment, the whole act of going out and spending the day with her family. Taking refuge from the hot sun in air conditioned halls, then wandering along the bazaars of Karol Bagh, Jan Path or Cannaught Place, holding tightly onto her mother’s hand, while assiduously licking an ice cream cone. She was proud of her beautiful mother, in her crisp starched cotton sari. How she walked so elegantly without tripping. Because she was a superwoman, her mother was.

Time Just Moves

Arches National Park- photo by Simi K.Rao

I feel most at peace when I am among the trees and shrubs or even the desert, and rocks. Sometimes, vastness is overwhelming but I don’t feel judged. I can just be me. I don’t have to pretend or feel stressed. I can relax. I don’t sense the passage of time, be it minutes or hours. Time just moves.

Point of View (P.O.V) #shortstory

I couldn’t believe it, I was living a nightmare. 

Was it fair? All this talk about mental health but what about us? Our mental health? We, who are constantly surrounded by sickness and death, who work our asses off trying to save others, who don’t have a life. 

“Then why do you do it?” pops the inevitable rejoinder. 

“Why did I do it?” I’ve actually asked myself this question several times. And each time the answer is the same. Because I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else.  Sounds cheesy but it is true. 

I cried when I saw that miserable creature. It is not easy for me to break down because of the wall I’d built around myself but I couldn’t help it that night. Her body was tattooed with horrendous scars. She was a heroin addict who had been in recovery but the pandemic had made her relapse. She had lost her job and her house. She flinched at the slightest touch. Her body was dotted with pockets of pus where she had injected herself. She asked me not to judge her. I didn’t. I wept instead before steeling myself and moving on to my next patient. 

Work, work, work. No chance to get a snack, even to pee. Phone going off constantly. What I wouldn’t have given for a five minute break. But no. Keep going, I told myself. Just keep a couple more hours then I can have a break- a break of three whole days. 

I’m done finally. I get to go home and then the fatigue hits. Music helps. I drive on autopilot, the route is imprinted in my subconsciousness and the sun is directly in my eyes. I feel discombobulated. I turn up the volume. Oh no, I drove through a red light. The streets are empty though, it is the weekend and everyone is sleeping in, while I… 

I hear that voice, that magical voice. His voice. My serotonin. What keeps me going. I’m okay, I tell myself.

I make it in one piece. Three dizzy flights of stairs then I stumble into my apartment.  I’m greeted by the drooping fronds of my fern, my faithful companion of five years, ever since I’d moved in. I dump a whole jug of water in it. No way was I going to let anyone die on my shift, human or plant. 

I open the refrigerator. Nothing looked remotely appealing, anyhow I didn’t have the energy to heat anything up. I just needed sleep. Just a few hours then I’d be fine. I took a shower (it’s a must, I could skip food but not a shower) then passed out on the cold bed. 

I was choking, fighting for air, struggling against this heavy weight pressing on my chest. Help!!

I sit up with a start. 

“You okay? You were screaming,” mutters a low husky and very familiar voice. 

“Whaaa ..” my chest was pounding. No.. no it wasn’t.. isn’t.  I blinked and kept blinking. He laughed– his trademark soft rumble that made me love him so much more. 

It’s him. The man in my dreams. I raise a trembling hand to his beautiful face. I can feel his skin. It is soft, silky; his honey eyes droopy with sleep and he is smiling. 

“I.. are you… ?” 

“Yes, I am,” he nods. “Remember we met at that party last week? The one that you hadn’t planned to go to but your friend forced you to come along? I need to thank her, I haven’t done that yet.”

I still didn’t believe it. “Pinch me,” I said.

“Enough, now just Stfu!” Then he pulled me down and kissed me.

Romance Of The Railroad

Long winding roads, verdent mountains, dotted blue skies, fresh chill in the air, and yes– The Choo! Choo! train.
“Bye, bye Choo choo train!” says a mother to her toddler as they descended the train. The nostalgia and the romance of the steam engine is unique. It brings an immediate smile all faces and a faraway look in those of us who have experienced traveling long distances in them. The sharp sound of the whistle and the smoke plume billowing over the length of the train has a plaintive ring to it– as if seeking for a lost era.

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The Duomo (An Architectural Marvel).

The Duomo of the Florence Cathedral

The Duomo, as Florence’s cathedral is fondly called, sports the largest masonry dome in the world. It sits across the Baptistry- the oldest religious site in Florence. Florence is a city in central Italy and the capital of Tuscany region.

The construction of the cathedral was begun by Arnolfo di Cambio at the end of the13th century, while the dome was added in the 15th century. It was designed by Filippo Brunelleschi (1377-1146). Unlike designers and builders nowadays, Brunelleschi did not go to architecture school, rather he was trained to become a goldsmith. But thanks to the Renaissance, which encouraged and patronized art of all kinds, he became interested in architecture, and worked to enhance his knowledge and skills. He designed and invented an array of sophisticated hoists and tools in order to bring his ambitious design to fruition. It is even more astonishing to note that the cathedral dome is entirely self-supporting. It is actually made of two domes. An inner dome made of sandstone and marble and outer dome made of brick and mortar. A copper clad, two ton stone ball that sits on top of the dome provided the finishing touch in 1469. It was built by Verucchio and his students, among whom happened to be the incomparable Leonardo Da Vinci.

To see this and many other wonders visit Florence or Firenze, Italy- the cradle of Renaissance.

Money Well Spent

It’s a Sunday. Not just any day. A day of so-called rest or restlessness. Let’s take a trip downtown. The weather is chilly, the sky is grey. The streets are deserted. Parking in the Whole Foods garage will cost you unless you spend $10 on groceries. Two boxes of cereal and some lemonade- $11 and change; not bad at all. Pick up some coffee at Starbucks (there is still no sitting inside) then wander along the streets.

The trees are finally springing leaves- makes for a nice contrast against the blue of the building across.

Walk through the Union Station which happens to the center of action to 17th street. A man wearing a purple cape slips into an alley covered with striking graffiti. Oxford Hotel, the oldest in Denver- had no clue.

Now back to the parking garage. Money well spent.