Today, after the light rain, I opened my window. A domestic, next house, was busy in hanging out the washings as a shaft of sunlight fell out of broken clouds. A woman, in the distance, was chopping sticks. A cowboy herded in cows to the field from a metalled road. Their bells jingled.
Rhythm is back.
Sun now bursts through my open window. Everything in my room is lighted. Rows of Krishnochura lining the boundary wall are a flowering delight. A pigeon is cooing in a soothing way, perching on my cornice. A pair of bulbuls, seen after a long time, sit relaxed under the tender canopy of Madhobilota. Their beaks open, from time to time, to take in rain water trickling down the young, green twig. Rains bring out white phurush bit early after year-long hibernation.
Clouds can form. They can rumble. Rumbling can make the whole sky look like grumbling. Then bolts can strike. Comes next rain. All sound and fury settle down to calm.
I have been experiencing this. You too, readers. All these years.
So do not despair. Let’s celebrate life with as much gusto as needed to make the most of our time left on this planet.
We, the humans, strut around the earth in such a way, as if, we have owned it. Sometimes we fret about for not getting that importance which, we believe, is due to us, from fellow humans or the society at large. An ill wind blows along and we become mere ashes or get buried in graveyards. All the mass of ashes or graveyards are full of those people who once thought they were important!
Shed vanity. Embrace sanity.
Look around. Life is very beautiful.
Grab it. Don’t damn it.
Hug it. Don’t muck it.
Kiss it. Don’t miss it.
Cherish it. Don’t perish it.
Beautiful