Musings (Satis Shroff)
MUSINGS 2022: Satis Shroff
The seasons change: the lovely flowers of Spring and Summer’s greenery which change to a golden Autumn followed by a blanket of white landscape.
At duck the sun goes down with a scarlet, orange, yellowness that spreads across the hills of the Dreisam Valley. You see the small Schwarzwald homesteads on the hillside, a scene reminiscent of the homesteads in Nepal, below the towering, majestic white Abodes of the Snow.
Crickets and cicadas overtake the symphony of the day as the shadows become longer. The birds have found their roosting places like normal people. Only the nocturnal predators become active in their nightly jaunts: the wild swines, a few wolves, many foxes are stealthily underway in the Black Forest.
Sleep overcomes you after you’ve read a book till the words lose their meaning due to your tiredness or you fall asleep in front of your TV and wake up sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and put it out.
If you’re in the Ukraine, you might be woken up by the blasts of the Russian missiles. You’ve been fighting with yourself to leave or stay.
A woman’s daughter Natasha who is now in safety in the west was right. She decides to flee this very moment. The bombardments are become unbearable. O, the savagery of Putin’s men. The very thought of their brutality.
If you’re in German you think about the long winter ahead. No oil and gas from the Russian pipeline. How could our politicians be so dumb as to make themselves so heavily dependent on Russian oil. Putin was not to be trusted but no one seemed to know about his plans of invasion and use of oil as a weapon to press his demands. When we see the Ukrainians fleeing to neighbouring countries and to Germans, many Germans think: that has happened to us more than once in history. We have to help them, after all they are Europeans and we’re living in the same continent. Ukraine’s men are fighting for Europe too because Putin cannot be trusted. He poses still as the strongman in Europe.
The Green Minister Habeck has been looking frantically for possible alternatives, shaking hands with Arabs who entertain and support the IS, wage wars in proxy elsewhere.
The sun also rises. The mists still linger in the valleys and spurs, and disappear to reveal the beautiful peaks right up to the church tower of St. Peter in the Black Forest.
Ah, the butterflies and bumble bees are busy flying from one choicest flower to another. The scarlet poppies have opened in your neighbour’s garden. My rhododendrons look lovely and happy as they move lightly when the Dreisamtäler wind blows over them. Alas, the lilacs have withered to brown, clumps, drooping from the branches. The violet leaves of the orchids on my window sill look contented and give me such serene delight.