At daybreak, when it's still dark outside, I often contemplate household chores to be done that day. As soon as I realize that I have to prepare tea to start with and then breakfast, I again retire to bed...It gives a temporary illusion that there is still some time left to spare in idleness.
During winter, my mornings are generally marked with intolerable indolence and indefinite inertia. While I am still lying, I often get a weird idea, that may be, I am tied to my bed with invisible roots, growing underneath my bed, reaching till eternity...
I stare through my glass door, to my balcony, which opens itself outside my room. The glass door serves as an eye to the outer world from the inner recess of my blanket. The sky is not visible in the morning. Not even the buildings opposite to ours. It's foggy outside. The fog distills itself gradually, giving way to the sunrays, just the way ignorance is replaced with knowledge and wisdom. My poetic sensibilities get awakened from my otherwise inactive anatomy. The newly bloomed red roses in the green pot engage my attention the most. I have witnessed them blossoming from buds into flowers- one of the several miracles of nature we often miss out on in our chaotic schedule.
In the afternoon, I often observe or examine the shifting clouds, figuring out the tales they frantically want to narrate...I have often taken photographs of them in various moods and shapes but never really incorporated them in my writings...One dear friend of mine once mentioned that I have good prospects of becoming a photographer...My infinite gratitude to that kind soul...
Except for pigeons, I hardly find any birds coming to my balcony...During rains, the whole place is water splashed. There is spluttering of window panes as the rainwater tip taps on them...Hurriedly we collect all the clothes hung outside, close all the doors and windows...The beauty of the rain is lost in the process. I don't prefer heavy rains which drench you entirely....they have been romanticized enough in films...I love the slow big drops which suddenly fall on our faces, hands and then start pouring gradually... the beginning is always magical, coming straight from the newly formed clouds.
Nature opens the window to my heart- imparting a deep sense of solace, calming the inner war of the mind ...bringing a temporary halt to my thoughts to immediate effect...I feel at once with nature, lost in the joy of just being Alive...
By Nandini Sengupta
@metaphors_of_life