God, when you chiseled a raindrop,
How did you think of a stem,
Bearing a lovely satin leaf
To hold the tiny gem?
How did you know a million drops
Would deck the morning’s hem?
A book and a cup of tea. Isn’t that a delectable combination? A book and a cup of tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate …On a sunny day or a sulky one, a windy day or a wintry one, a book never says goodbye.
It’s raining today and I am ensconced in that warm chair-swing in the balcony. I watch the sky celebrate, extend my hand and feel it on my palm and smile as a few raindrops caress my face.Opening my eyes, I watch the steam from the cup of tea, rising with eagerness, forming shapes, trying to reach for the sky but then slowly it gives up and accepts its fate.
Finally, as if following a sacred ritual, I turn my attention towards the book in my lap and run a hand over the cover. It wasn’t a new book. Rather, a very old one. Borrowed from the British Library.
Turning the book over in my hands I wondered how many people must have handled it. To the unseeing eye, it was only an old, tattered book, unworthy of any praise. But a lover would know its worth. I wondered how many stories it held, apart from the printed one.
How many moments it treasured?
I loved reading for all those well known reasons- for visiting unknown places, for the new eyes, new adventures, new friends, the knowledge, the wisdom. I loved the musty smell, the sound of a flipping a page, the feel of a book in your hands. I love it all!
But I love reading a borrowed book most. I love reading the tales hidden in them. Faded covers curling at the edges, browned papers. Finding a dried petal or flower in between the page reminds you of some stranger-friend. Words scribbled on the edges and careless doodling. Favorite passages marked and dog eared pages!
A stain here and a stain there, telling stories within a story. Chocolate marks, candy wrappers, names of lovers scribbled in tiny hearts drawn at the corner of a page. How many stories could a book tell? And how many could you read?
And then as my gaze wander, so do my thoughts. I look up at the clouds and start giving wings to their shapes. Then, I wonder about you.
Do you love the rain as much as I do? Do you too like saunte
ring empty roads? Does the sunset leaves you awed too, every single time? Do you love making castles in the sand? Do you enjoy talking to the birds? Do you find humor where most people don’t? Are you as crazy as I am? Do you too hate the world at times? And then learn to love it again? Do you like to eavesdrop on the wind whispering to the trees or pen speaking to the paper? Do you sit alone and relive memories? Do you get goose-flesh when you see the rainbow? Do you ever feel lonely in the crowd? Can you too sea the fire in the sea? Do you feel the evening breeze caress your hand? Does spending time with people below seven and above seventy mean anything to you? Do you look at the stars and wonder…?
Poetry? Long walks in the rain? Dancing? Calvin and Hobbes? Kishore Kumar? Clapton? Dcfc? Star wars? Beaches? F.R.I.E.N.D.S.? Duck tales? Fox’s wedding?
The rain has stopped and the scent of earth pulls me out of my thoughts. Petrichor! Sighing deeply, I look at my book and smile. It had waited patiently for my return. My companion amidst lonely crowd.
So would you still ask me why I find in it my solace?
Miracles are rare
That’s what people say
But did anyone ever care
To look at the sun?
When it bursts in the sky
The morning star fades
The sun prepares to ignite
The horizon breaks
A thin orange slice
Like a newly bloomed daisy
Will burst to life
And light the way for all alike.
It rises and sets everyday
Travelling the world in a spin
Sometimes angry, smug sometimes
A little too bright or a little too dim.
Not just a ball of fire
Not just a source of light
The sun, my friends,
Supports all life
And in the evening again
It’s the masterpiece of the sky
It takes leave in style
A beauty none can deny
Miracles are rare
That’s what people say
Well, look at the sun
Didn’t it make your day?
So when the sun comes up
How will you greet it?
“As the sea swallowed the sun once more, a tear fell from her eye and dissolved into the sand beneath us.
“What is it, why the tears?”, I asked
and with a smile that nearly leaped across her cheeks,
she answered: “Here comes the moon.”
I knew that moment that it is and always will be the simple things that plant the most phenomenal truths inside us.”
– Christopher Poindexter
“Beti” means daughter in Hindi. My uncle and aunt got this beautiful cake for us a few weeks ago.
Letting the daughters of the family feel special and loved without any occasion is such a beautiful idea.
I believe we do not need a particular day to make our loved ones feel special… but still, a very happy women’s day to all the women out there!
The sun rose and knocked,
We left for a morning walk
I saw a squirrel on a tree,
Swear it stopped and smiled at me.
The songs of birds at first light,
The freshness of the day,
The shadows of the early sunrise,
And the clean, crisp air
There is so much to see
The flowers, the birds, the honeybee
The grass under my feet
All of those await me.
But I stay and gaze
At the scurrying squirrel
And his faithful friends
Observing their eccentric ways
One makes a funny noise,
I laugh aloud, it runs away
They go round n round
Scuttle to and fro
Aimlessly digging holes in the ground
When everything else fails,
They chase their very own tails!
That is what they do,
Just like me and you
They save for winter
But never forgets how,
To live for the moment,
To enjoy the now
And that’s how squirrels are clever,
Than humans can be ever!
Even Starbucks knows all about me! 😀
There was a time when I never used to let the sun catch me asleep.
The morning sunshine, the koel’s song or even the rooster’s crowing had a calming effect.
Just let the sun’s first rays adorn your face and brighten your day!
Then I grew out of the habit. Because, life.
After many months, I felt the magic of sunrise again.
The beauty of nature, the tranquility of mornings, is inexpressibly blissful.