The write-ups of life written on waves –By Anu Chandrashekar
The ocean once said—
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“Every wave carries a line; every tide, a chapter.
Some fade, some stay.”
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A paper page floated upon the crest of waves, and there a story wove itself at the bottom of the sea.
And each drop would write a line, and each wave sing a song, but the tale was not told, like a desire left unspilled.
The wind passed, the pages went— some remained unfinished, others were added to others.
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The sun burned bright, the moon smiled, fantasies had room to move, and the tale of sand acquired the tints of a sunbow.
The rays of the sun spoke low and said, “We have given our colours.” The moon said coolly, “This is a dream we have nurtured.”
A little wave nodded and smiled and said, “Life, life I am—a day, wondering afresh, I wrote my story on the sand, another shift all the time.”
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“In the swell of time, stories bloomed—each instant a petal in the wreath of remembrance.”
Dream-wrapped little play waves ran up.
Sandcastles, broken in a minute, and then recreated. Boats and boatmen sailed and sang; songs scattered life’s colour, and all the music had the colours of life.
Life hung in suspense; now and then, we took shelter in a banyan tree, and with time, some deep revelations.
Said the wave to the banyan tree, “Why stand ye so still?“Flow forth, O stream, move on, restless current—what depth lies in thy patience?”
The banyan smiled and said, “You are the playful wind; I am the stillness of patience. You move with shifting time; to me, you are the face of the mountain. “You are the breath of now; I am the soil, holding the wisdom rooted in time.”
The wave blushingly said, “A passing tale am I, O yea, describing my life on the sand.”
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The horizon dimmed, and the weary wave folded into silence. One wave fused into another, resting forever.
The writing on the sands wore away, and lines ceased, and the sun went down, and the moon smiled. The busy wave was satisfied.
In a moment, the picture in the sand had disappeared, the tale was dim, and the wave slept— slowly, softly, death fell asleep.
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On the following morning, another rise occurred. The morning tide rose with gentle promise of beginnings written in silence. A story not yet spoken.
Each life moment lives and dies; time just passes by.
Minute by minute, life comes to the sea.
Life is a wave itself. Streaming, succeeding, then stopping again,
With its trace behind it, at least until it fuses with the sea, an unfathomable meeting of an infinite number of depths, colourful and in motion.
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History on waves— sometimes remembered, sometimes forgotten.
The past that has been discovered finds its place in memory; what cannot be gets dispersed in the water.
Life is also a wave. Arriving, departing, at last, they found a home in the arms of the ocean.
The essence of life is a quiet truth— each passing moment is sacred, each instant carries its grace, and nothing truly fades. The waves kept what each drop wrote.
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And decked with pearl-like memory, every time became holy. In the glass of time, each face belonged. And in the lap of the ocean, all memories were welcome.
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Which part of your story is still written on sand? And which has found quiet rest in the stillness of the ocean.
Every life has its small moments, which, however brief, are never forgotten. There are things that are etched in the sand—fine and transitory—washed away by the waters of forgetfulness and the tide of time. Some turn to the lap of the ocean—deeper, permanent, stamped on the soul.
Which memories in your life still drift upon the surface? And which have quietly settled in the ocean’s depths?
🌀 Close your eyes. 
Which memory still stirs like a ripple? And which rests like a pearl in the deep?
You’re invited to share your reflections in the comments below. In words—or silence—because every story, whether incomplete or whole, deserves to be heard.
You can read the Hindi version of this article on my Hindi blog अभिव्यक्त अनुभूति (Abhivyakt Anubhuti): “क्षणिक लहरें, शाश्वत जीवन”
Suggested Reading Material
“Sunlit Horizons and Moonlit Souls”Human Experience
Authorship & Archival Note
This piece lives not only here but is also gently archived for citation and scholarly recognition via the author’s official ORCID record. ORCID iD: 0009-0002-8916-9170
© Anu Chandrashekar | This post is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.
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