Even my self from the past and future birth knows my infatuation with the commonplace phenomenon which we name it as Sunrise and Sunset. It is not the Sun rising, but just the Earth rotating on its own axis. Nevertheless, I look at every Sunrise and Sunset like it’s for the first time, and try to make a word necklace with the sensory experiences that i am bestowed with.
The twilight sky, morphing from the night sky to the morning sky – one hue at a time.
Of course it’s that horizon which will embrace the rising Sun. And then, like an able invader, the Sun will burst the garrisons of the night sky open and the eager Sun’s rays will pierce the visible sky many fold.
Lo and behold, the Sun’s rays will have covered the sky horizon to horizon and would have banished the night sky for a few hours. For even the Sun knows; it is not the light which is ethereal but the deep, black night.
It rained the whole day yesterday, so much so that the remnants of it were left hanging onto the ropes and railings.
With the rising Sun in the background, the raindrops clinging to their ground found their eyes meeting mine.
In their eyes i saw the world upside down. The Sun was rising from the top, the sky was at the bottom, and the trees were rooted at the ground suspended above.
A bubble holds in itself the reflections of the entire world. Who’s to say we aren’t in a bubble?
The clouds were ready to descend upon the dry parched ground, but were met with a bland response from the man made structures.
What does a building know about growing with the help of wind and rain? All it knows is composition and crude engineering. For all the clouds knew, a man made structure didn’t even have a mind of its own.
The trees on the other hand were sentient, they faced the rising Sun and their roots intentionally bored deep into the ground to anchor itself. The trees had a mind of its own.
The clouds parted its hazy skin and let the rain pour on the Earth, somewhere the ground heaved a sigh of relief as the first raindrop sizzled on contact with the tarmac.
The buildings nevertheless bathed in the rain, unable to feel the drops trickling down its spine and meeting the newfound puddle in the alley.
They say that clouds are an angel’s way of making its mark in the twilight sky. Others say that clouds are that which we can never be.
Clouds are indeed awe worthy.
They’re heavier than cities, but you can’t stand on them. They like to smudge themselves in a myriad colors, they make shapes that tend to show us familiar faces, and they like to laugh and cry and blind the sky with their lightning.
Personally, the aspect that i like about clouds a lot is the fact that they are never boring. Even in creation and destruction, they’re ever so majestic and demand awe in return.
The churn doesn’t just happen in the grest ocean, it happens in the limitless sky too.
More often than once, the eye bearers think if a churn is even necessary. Why is it even necessary? Isn’t it better if oil and water can’t mix? Purity.
If there weren’t no churn, you’d not get your butter, thunderstorm, rainbow, and even evolution maybe.
Legends of all geographies have a great churn ot sort, which bestowed boons upon the Gods and Demons alike. To think of it, alloys are a product of churn too.
Then why is the great churn so frowned upon? Purity.
I can feel the wind slapping my face and my hair trying to poke my eyes.
I’m trying to follow the flight path of every crow I can lock my eyes on. It’s impossible.
I see crows – dozens of them – daily, yet I haven’t seen their abode. Strangely, they know about my home. I feel like.. I feel like I’m a moment away from flying.
The sky was crimson, it is turning red now. What does it tell, apart from the science of refraction and scattering of light?
I see a small group of smokers laughing over a joke. The crows are still criss-crossing the empty space.
You go tell ’em, exclaims one of the smokers.
You go tell ’em
I woke up covered in my own sweat at around 4 am, not an unusual occurrence in the summer time. I just forgot how it felt like to be sweating all the time, stinking even.
I relieved myself, came back to my room, and tried sleeping – not that I wanted to, but I had to. Given the lockdown and the summer season, the days are incredibly long. I re-read The Fountainhead in a day last week, and ended up re-reading Life of Pi also.
Soon, I saw a shade of crimson spilling in the sky. The Sun was being ushered in. I unlocked the doors to the balcony, and stood there for sometime – breathing in the indifferent air, and hearing the cacophony of chirping birds.
I thought to capture this scene, so I did. At first I thought, maybe I’ll do it so that I could post it in social media – I had been inactive for almost a fortnight. That isn’t true, I had been sharing memes.
Nature indeed is indifferent, it doesn’t need for people to be in or out of lockdown to carry on its work. When I stood there breathing in the air, I thought that I was the only one in the world witnessing this sunrise.
A sunrise and a sunset – the only two recurring occasions where I’ve never felt lonely, sad or even bad about myself. The chill air, the spilling of red in the blue sky, the Sun stuck between two horizons, and I – wishing that my day would be as short as the days of the Little Prince.
Refuge 