Monsoon Blues

Through the window sill:

It is drizzling outside. Through the transparent window sill I create a race between two water droplets, with my mind occasionally drifting to the pleasant music and the meaningful lyrics of the song playing on my Ipod. The sound of the wind is still searching for a gaping hole for its complete effect to be felt, though i am still reeling under its miniscule effort.

My mind sways just like a pendulum, flashing images of an imaginary girl as soon as the meaningful lyrics takes a detour to my idle cerebrum. The first rain of a monsoon gets the same welcome from a nomad just like how a farmer welcomes the harvest festival.

The sight of a boy playing with the rain water on the highways is a sight that any photographer would love to click and any fun lover would try to control the solemn urge to give the little one some company.

As my eye lids face a battle to part ways, the climate and the scenic beauty reminds nothing other than a Mani Ratnam’s picturesque song. As I hear the last of the melancholic chords, my brain knows that it has lost the war and i doze off as i feel the last shudder of the cold air through my nostrils!