In Sync
As a teenager, the terrace of my house was my happy escape. Every evening, when the sun went down, I would run up the stairs to watch the sunset. The entire evening, I would dance around in sync with the wind while chattering away in excitement with the mango tree. Our conversations would be about fantasies and reality, lasting until it got dark.
Biding the tree farewell, I would sit watching the sky paint the twinkling stars all around its massive canvas. The moon would assist by scattering its luminance all around the sky. Beaming, I would welcome the moon while enquiring about its day.
Being a talkative child, the whole time I sat on the terrace, I would keep interacting with these marvels of nature.
It has been five years since. I have moved cities, yet, whenever I return home, the terrace is my go-to place, my safe keeper. It has witnessed the greys in me. It has seen my struggles and has watched me grow. If I had to describe my time spent here, I would call it whimsical merriments surrounded by episodes of melancholic reminiscence.
Being back on my terrace, I always feel like I am reuniting with long-forgotten friends. Lost and restless, I sit here today, amid my beloved friends. My empty eyes stare aimlessly at the grey-tinted clouds that look like dementors in disguise. The chirpy birds have vanished in terror, bracing themselves from the thunderous rain shower that is about to commence. I sit, waiting for the tiny droplets to hit my face. Hoping to feel relieved by their soft caresses on my cheeks, I feel disappointed. The drizzles no longer seem friendly. They resemble tiny pixies attempting to create an illusion of sorrow to make a sad day worse. I wonder, when did these wonderous spectacles transform into such terrifying monsters.
It’s drizzling now, but it feels like it’s pouring. The pitter-patter raindrops shape themselves into tiny puddles. I laugh a sorrowful laugh as I pelt stones at them and watch the aimless splatter. They remind me of my futile quest to find a harbour. In the colourful meadows of my mind, I run wild. Chasing dreams and realities, I get stuck and forget to breathe.
The reflections of the sky are evident in the pools of water. It’s bizarre how such tiny puddles illustrate the grandeur of the sky with complete precision. These puddles, now my periscope, are displaying glimpses of my childhood. As a child, I would go on evening walks with my grandfather. On spotting puddles on the streets, I would run towards them and jump in. My roaring laughter would be a contagion that would always make my grandfather grin. Such moments of the past fill my heart with warmth.
As the years have passed, I have realised that these moments have shaped me into who I am today. I fondly recall the carefree days, wishing for similar times now. As grown-ups, we link pleasure with materialistic pursuits, but when young, we find happiness in simple moments of life. As children, we never feel the need to search for happiness. We find it in the present moment. As adults, the irony prevails; carpe diem feels like a myth.
Shades of blue and grey are apparent on the sky palette. I close my eyes and inhale the earthy breeze. It’s refreshing. I am glad that in this chaos, at least something feels right. The cold wind gushes continually through my straight hair. With a whooshing sound, it whispers, daring me to sway with the flow. The lightning rumbles startle me. I chuckle.
The drizzles transform into heavy showers. The raindrops falling on my skin no longer feel like terrifying monsters. They are calming. For some time, I sit quietly, feeling the raindrops fall while finding solace in the song the rain plays. The aroma of the wet clay feels like a reminiscent cologne, fragrant enough to soothe my soul. Moments pass. I start humming my favourite melody. Swaying along with the music, I start singing loudly. I stand up and start dancing in tune with the melody.
Dancing around, I giggle as it hits me.
At this moment, I AM seizing the day.
