Dance of the water lilies

Come, join me in one of my favourite garden spots. The water-lily pond at Maryknoll in Trivandrum. I just spent 4 very self-indulgent days there, soaking in its tranquility.
The lily pond here is more than 50 years old and has just been rejuvenated.

I woke up to see the dragonflies hug open tightly wrapped buds. Time has no meaning here ... buds wait for the touch of sunrays before displaying the tiniest sliver of colour.

Then follows a ballet of awakening. Slowly, oh so languidly, they unfurl petal by petal.

And then, filament by filament ...

as graceful as any mudra you would see from a classical dancer.

Soon, their inimitable fragrance steals across the air and it is as if my senses are on hyperdrive.

Then, in the drowsy quiet, broken only by the call of a hidden koel, the water lillies pause like dreamy divas.

For, they are soon to be the star of another show... the dance of the honey-bees.
I watch them, fly in and out . Drunk with ecstasy and the promise of every floral treasure, they stagger under the weight of pollen so lavishly offered. They seem reluctant to leave and crawl on the stamen like someone who's had one too many and who still wants one more for the road.

Suddenly, I know I want a lily pond of my own. Maybe not a big one like Monet's inspiration or even the one at Maryknoll.
I think I could be very content gazing at a serene urli of water on my balcony, afloat with water lillies.