July 1, 2018
"What's the weather outside your window doing right now? If that's not inspiring, what's the weather like somewhere you wish you could be? "
It is a warm, humid, sunny afternoon, in the middle of the monsoon season and on a Sunday. I think sunny and Sunday, these two words are inspiring enough. There is absolute silence within and without, I am alone with thoughts for my company and the sound of the fan.
If I look up I can see the sky, a pale blue covered with white fluffy clouds, not a sign of grey, so there would be no rain, at least, today. The trees, washed off the summer dust by the first monsoon rains, are a soft green and gently sway in the lazy wind. A row of bougainvilleas, mostly in riotous blooms of pink and white with an occasional orange, break the monotony of the rock and cement of the nearby construction site. It is quiet, no workmen on a Sunday, so even the excavators and cranes, the dump trucks and the cement mixer trucks are at rest; man and machines, both taking a break.
I slide open the window and faints sounds float in; a stray bird braving the sun, the roar of a motor cycle in the distance and the indistinct thumping that is synonymous with construction (I would have to sit up in my window seat and lean out a little to identify the source of that sound, but I am too relaxed to budge).
How inspiring is the weather? Quite inspiring, though not what one would normally expect inspiration to be. There is a soft, cool zephyr that wafts through my open window, causing the curtains to sway and dance. 'It seems to be saying, just relax, for some time, do not think or do anything, keep everything aside.' Nature seems to be at rest too, peaceful and content.
And that is exactly how I feel, rested and content; and want to simply continue relaxing. With my feet stretched along the window seat I gaze into the distance, soaking up the quietness (despite the persistent calls of one stubborn pair of birds, it is musical).
Solitude at its best.
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Word Count -340