Karavi : in the midst of life and death

Karwi is the symbol of her dance on the doors of birth and death. When one is parting ways, the other is sprouting up with the vigor of life. A plant that grows into the forests becomes around seven feet tall; then one year, all of a sudden, billions of flowers blossom, and the plant dies out. Everything turns dark. But the seeds mix with the forest floor, and the first raindrop touches the seeds buried in the soil. Life springs up, and you see a unique mix of green sprouting growth beneath the tall, dark sticks of once-alive Karavi.

This is life, where the young ones dance with full enthusiasm while the older ones wait to die. The difference is that throughout our lives we strive to grow—first young, then old—working to achieve more success, money, recognition. Yet many of us die without realizing our fullest potential. We cling to habits, to the same houses, to cocoons we never dare step outside of. We forget to take risks, to face glaring sunlight, roaring winds, thrashing downpours. We play safe. And the flower inside us withers before it ever blooms.

Then we pass on the same fear of risk to the next generation, ensuring they too grow with comforts but never with freedom.The departure of the Karwi plant is full of color, painting the whole mountain in violet hues. The buzzing of honeybees rings across the hills. The whole existence becomes a vibrant canvas. Rain, fog, sunlight, and wind all contribute to this grand drama. One enters and the other departs, but their interplay makes the whole existence wonderful.

Can we celebrate life without inhibition? The cold wind wrapping around the body as fabric, the delicate designs of water droplets drawn by clouds, each drop trickling down the spine—this is the thrill of living each moment fully in the present. To be part of divinity like a baby who knows no shame, no guilt, only trust in the arms of nature.

The forest knows this truth. It whispers through the rustling leaves, through the rhythm of raindrops striking the soil, through the sudden stillness when a bird pauses mid-flight. In that silence, the boundaries between self and world dissolve. You are no longer a separate being watching the trees—you are the tree, the rain, the soil, the fragrance rising from the damp earth. Vulnerability is not weakness here; it is the key to belonging.

Can you imagine days without isms, without hierarchy, without sin or virtue? Just yourself as a living being in the throbbing pulse of nature—where each entity interacts with every other in a seamless rhythm. Life and death are not opposites but movements in the same cycle, and everyone participates fully. This is not fantasy but the simple truth of existence. Step away from social structures, even briefly, and place yourself within nature’s embrace. There the dance of the divine will show you the way.

To dance in the rain is not an act of rebellion but of remembrance. The body recalls the first moment it was cradled by the elements. Each droplet becomes a blessing, each gust of wind a companion, each thunder a reminder that the cosmos itself is alive and celebrating. In this surrender, joy ripens—not the joy of having, but the joy of being.

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Muse : K Raginee Yogesh

Words & Images : Yogesh Kardile

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