A beautiful day it was, not because of anything else but just that it was a holiday, a day for us to take rest and engage ourselves in activities that we like doing. I was not in the least bothered about doing anything but sleeping the whole day away. However, my wishes were slaves in front of the work that was in store for me. I got up at nine in the morning, prepared a cup of coffee for myself and started working on my laptop. The clock had struck one in the afternoon, by the time I finished tying up loose ends.
The sunny morning sky had turned gray, all of a sudden. My mother, who had kept the clothes on the terrace to get dried up, was panicking since morning and ordered me to go upstairs to fetch them as a heavy rainfall was inevitable, she said. I dawdled up the stairs to the terrace where I saw the clothes hanging from a wire, all of them were swaying to and fro, to the instructions of the wind.
I looked around to see the atmosphere. The leaves of tall trees surrounding me were shaking and their movement, when viewed against the sky, created jagged patterns that left me mesmerized. The wind was strong enough to uproot weak plants from their base, I could feel it, cutting through my face and limbs. A beautiful feeling on a beautiful day! I felt as if time was slowing down and the background noises were losing their intensity gradually. I was left alone with the wind and the gray sky.
At times the wind whistled past my ears, teasing me in a tender way, just as secret admirers do and immediately after this, the rumbling of a thunderbolt would break this romance. The sky, although by the look of it seemed gray, had a mysterious purple undertone hiding behind the obvious and noticing that was just a matter of time and concentration put together. The more I observed, the more curious I became; this was a world in itself where there is stillness in motion, truth in a false notion.
I stood in front of the taut wire from which the clothes were hanging and kept on observing the numerous patterns made by the “undulating greenery”. It was only when I heard another crashing sound of thunder that I started putting the clothes safely inside the bucket that I had brought along and having finished this, I headed downstairs, leaving the terrace to witness a violent rainfall.
“Why did you take so long?”, my mother asked, almost in an anxious tone.
To this, I just smiled. She did not utter a word. I took out my diary from the shelf and started writing and having noticed that, she smiled (she knew that I had laid my eyes on something worth penning down) and quietly left the room.