A little chilly it is today. The window does not bring me any sunlight. The clouds have gained power today. I woke up with a sneeze, covered myself up in a little woolen shawl and poured myself a hot cup of chai. With Jagjit Singh's ghazals playing in the background, the rain seemed to make sense to me. It bought back memories, memories of time. It is funny, how we hold onto memories throughout a lifetime.
I went back to 2014, it was the same rainy morning with ghazals playing in the background. A hustle it was really. Only this time it was in Chennai. I was sitting on the balcony with little droplets of rain falling on my feet. Down on the road, the market was busy. Busy with all sorts of people. People trying to escape the fierce rain, people trying to sell garam garam chai, people trying to catch the bus to office , people fighting over a fish. There were kids who made paper boats, who did not seem to care about the thunder. There were women lifting up their sarees and hurrying towards their home. So many people, so many stories. My heart wished to talk to all of them. To ask them of their memories. To listen to their stories. In my mind I would pause them. I would go near them and look at their faces. Their faces hiding a million secrets. I would touch them to feel their skin. I would wonder what they are thinking. Uncertainty is perhaps the only fact I agree with. The pleasure in not knowing which moment can be your very last is beautiful. Random moments dive deep into your unconsciousness. There is so much beauty that I can't take it in my heart anymore. For once in that morning of 2014, I felt as if nothing else mattered, as if me listening to ghazals is the only thing I'd remember. Well, beauty is not for us to keep but for nature to swallow. All wishes and desires exploding within me.
My cup was suddenly empty. The ghazal also stopped so did the rain. The clouds looked silent now.I came back to today, went back in and returned to my daily routine of creating beauty.
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