I have walked the flat surface along with my tribe – I have trudged the sandy flats. Vast featureless landscapes as far as the eyes can see. I have climbed the rocky desert mountains – where only me, the rocks, mother Earth and the Sun talk to each other. Like an anvil the heat beats my head and pounds the rocks. Even the proud rocks are afraid to utter a single sound lest they invoke the wrath of the Mighty Sun.
Sand or rocks – there is no sound, there is no existence, there is no vegetation, and there are no clouds in the sky, only an unending pattern of sand and rocks.
For thousands of years we have maintained a balance – and faced the wrath of Nature at its extreme. We have roamed and wandered and moved from place to place and time to time. We are the Nomads who are inhabitants of the arid desert landscape of our Mother. We maintain an equilibrium with the civilized dwellers who live in other parts of the world.
Vegetation cover out here is sparse, almost non-existent. It is a wilderness beyond all wildernessess. It is bleak, desolate, sandy at some places and rocky in some. Sand, sand, sand everywhere – undulating dunes – which seem to have stood frozen through the centuries. Rocks and rocks – proud rocky hills – staring proudly at the Sun – crumbling mountains – new mountains forming everyday – that is what my world is all about.
I roam from rock to rock, sand dune to sand dune – I eat desert mice and I pray. I have no religion, no roots, no lineage – yet I pray. The sun burns my skin, the burning sand scalds my skin, the hot air burns my soul – but I go on and on and I pray. Featureless planes, similar patterns – everything seems to be the same – constant, unchanging, unyielding.
But this constancy is not real.
I know everything moves when the storms come. I have seen such desert storms – I have been in such desert storms – I have seen the vast waves of sand hundreds of feet high as they come racing towards us. I have seen the unprepared being sucked into the womb of this sand-wave monster and never being found again. I see nothing when I am in the Storm. It makes me realize how insignificant we are in the face of our Mother’s wrath.
I have seen old mountains being destroyed and new mountains being created. I have seen beautiful sand art as our Mother carves infinitely beautiful images on her sandy canvas. Creation after destruction. Once the storm is over, I feel the lull. Once the sand-mist clears and the veil lifts from my eyes, I see once again exquisite art carved out of the uncarvable. Only Nature can create something so beautiful. I have seen and been witness to the eternal cycle of destruction and creation, which very few have the good fortune to experience.
Yes I am one of the very few favored sons of Mother earth.
I have seen, touched, smelt, tasted, heard and realized Beauty everyday of my life – I realize God every moment of my life.
For God is Beauty.