Amazon Oars


The Oars! Where were they?

My arms almost tore apart in pain, as I searched for the pair of oars in vain…

For a boat as small as this, weren’t they a bit too huge to disappear in thin air?

Under my seat, beside the fishing rod kept aside, I looked everywhere,

There wasn’t any space left unsearched in that little boat of mine.

Like a grandfather, who even after losing his walking-stick, was holding on to his grandson, in his arms,

He was willing to fall, and willing to endure it all,

Trying his best to keep the baby, away from a single scratch,

The boat without its oars, was simply afloat,

For all that it could now do was to ensure, I was dry…

Oaring could be fun,

But only with a partner to help you in turns,

For a first-timer, trying to oar across a stretch of the unfathomable Amazon,

Was an idea that was not only dangerous, but was also overdosing on optimism,

But, that was the only way out for my scared spirit,

Scared of never-ending layers of darkness,

Pulled over eternally, by the dense, unforgiving broadleaf tropical rainforest,


Scared of the Jaguar’s volcanic eyes,

Of the Black Caiman, as it seemed ever ready for turns to hunt me down,

Of poisonous Dart Frogs, and the Vampire Bats,

All of whom were at their fieriest,

For each and every one of them knew,

They were blessed with skyless Amazon nights,

Always there, ready to conceal their sins, their blood-soaked mouths,

Ready to their rescue…


I took to the water, for I knew,

It was only from here that I could avoid the dew, sense the sunlight,

Bathe in its warmth,

For all I wanted to feel,

Was that the night, was still not powerful enough to engulf us, completely,

The Sun was there, gleaming on the equator, and guarding our backs with a smile,

As if, continuously mocking the silly man,

For spending his unique mental prowess in imitating the ant…


Last night, as I continued oaring,

Gasping for breath, celebrating short intervals, and stretching my hands, every now, and then,

I tried hard not to look at the dark forest,

As if letting out that stare,

From those green grumpy eyes,

To avoid imagining, my boat capsized by a gigantic striped Anaconda,

And hungry Piranhas jostling the water red,

Tearing me into pieces that I doubt could make it to the river-bed,

In the process of gulping down my worst fears,

Slumber gripped me tight,

And, it was only now, hours after Sunrise that I realize,

The pair of oars had slipped from my hands into the water,

While I snored in peace,

Sunk in tranquil waves of my loneliness, and the vicious serenity in that atmosphere…

I’d always dreamt of a moment like this, and no matter how badly I missed the oars,

I knew, my moment was here…

With a stiff glance, I gazed at the seemingly, motionless Sun,

At the rippling surface of the deathly water,

As I waited for another boat, or maybe, another wishfully stranded soul,


I did not want to think of a way out,

I did not want to feel like a man lying on a landmine, waiting for his soul,

To tire out and escape its breathing tangible shell of flesh and blood,

Eventually, torn by a deafening explosion into minute bits,

Here, I was safe and secure,

Secure in the precarious lap of nature,

I felt a peace that though, was strange,

Washed me off my fears…


It is into Mother Nature that we perish one day,

Here, I was waiting for her,

To gulp me down deep within,

Immortalizing my soul, forever…