The sky.
That's what you keep your eyes fixed upon while standing at the corner, waiting for the bus at 6:15 am. People tend to look uniformly expressionless at such god-awful hours & more so if all they have to look forward to is a 4 hour bus journey. Today is no different. You are struck by the passengers' resemblance to milling sheep & are about to smirk.
Realization happens... you are part of the flock, in a way. The moment feels so grey.
So your glance drifts towards the heavens. As you walk out of your house into the lane this morning, it seems as if clouds heavy with the promise of rain hovered over the world. You wonder if the saxophone case is waterproof, take the easy way out & pray that a downpour does not answer the question. Even as you trudge toward the highway, the case has irritatingly begun to assert it's weight.
It feels like the morning light is introducing you to a new sky. It's not blue yet but it is no longer dark. Stragglers from last night's showers are scattered across the horizon & a crimson blush stains the white. Unbidden, you think of words like 'panoramic' & about the genius of Turner & Monet.
You have had an 'interesting' weekend. It wasn't supposed to be. You had looked forward to a long laze, hanging out with family or friends. Comfort in routine. Instead, you have been reminded of responsibilities & obligations that adulthood has thrust on your reluctant shoulders. Saturday evening felt like the tendrils of the past brushed up against the pillars of the present when cricket & conversation allowed you to confront the idea of change.
People would say you are not old enough to feel weary & jaded.
People say a lot of things.
The bus crawls past the pink-&-white buildings & you wait till the river has been crossed. Then, you draw the curtains & try to sleep.
The sky is just the sky again.
Song for the moment: Don't fear the reaper - Blue Oyster Cult
That's what you keep your eyes fixed upon while standing at the corner, waiting for the bus at 6:15 am. People tend to look uniformly expressionless at such god-awful hours & more so if all they have to look forward to is a 4 hour bus journey. Today is no different. You are struck by the passengers' resemblance to milling sheep & are about to smirk.
Realization happens... you are part of the flock, in a way. The moment feels so grey.
So your glance drifts towards the heavens. As you walk out of your house into the lane this morning, it seems as if clouds heavy with the promise of rain hovered over the world. You wonder if the saxophone case is waterproof, take the easy way out & pray that a downpour does not answer the question. Even as you trudge toward the highway, the case has irritatingly begun to assert it's weight.
It feels like the morning light is introducing you to a new sky. It's not blue yet but it is no longer dark. Stragglers from last night's showers are scattered across the horizon & a crimson blush stains the white. Unbidden, you think of words like 'panoramic' & about the genius of Turner & Monet.
You have had an 'interesting' weekend. It wasn't supposed to be. You had looked forward to a long laze, hanging out with family or friends. Comfort in routine. Instead, you have been reminded of responsibilities & obligations that adulthood has thrust on your reluctant shoulders. Saturday evening felt like the tendrils of the past brushed up against the pillars of the present when cricket & conversation allowed you to confront the idea of change.
People would say you are not old enough to feel weary & jaded.
People say a lot of things.
The bus crawls past the pink-&-white buildings & you wait till the river has been crossed. Then, you draw the curtains & try to sleep.
The sky is just the sky again.
Song for the moment: Don't fear the reaper - Blue Oyster Cult
Comments
Beautifully described.