Monday, July 30, 2007

Misty Window Panes

The rains started sometime when he had fallen asleep on the couch, the hum of the air conditioner lulling him into an uneasy sleep. He nuzzled his head on the pillow, trying unconsciously, to cradle it into that sweet spot.
He was woken up by the distant rumble of the approaching thunderstorm,feeling a vague uneasiness. A throat parched and with a heavy head, he placed his bare feet on the cold vinyl floor and felt the chill run up his spine pushing him into the realms of wakefulness. He walked across the room and ran the water from the tap into his favorite jet black cup. He liked the cup. He drank half the cup, suddenly no longer thirsty, unhurriedly emptied the remaining half into the sink.Watching the water etch its way across the metal at the bottom, disappearing in a half murmured gurgled sigh.
His eyes adjusted to the dim light, he went to the window sill and pulled back the curtains,just a bit, and rested his head against the cold glass window. The sky was a tortured canvas of grey with the last rays of the sun, desperately trying to hold sway from the far horizon. The rays were fighting a losing battle. The lightning bolts streaked across the southern skies, lighting up the heavens in a flash of cosmic brilliance followed by the rumble that shook the glass against which his cheek rested. He stood there for a long time, staring unblinkingly at the rain drops falling off the sill. A steady patter almost in sync with his silently beating heart. He stood there until he could not longer see with his breath condensing in a translucent mosaic on the glass. He stood back and painted a squiggle on the misty canvas with his finger. He spent a long while admiring it,until the squiggle disappeared into a meaningless sludge.

He sighed and wondered, what if he had not taken the chances that he took, in the blind belief that whatever the outcome, he could rest assured that he did all he could?
With the benefit of hindsight, he thought ...it would have been easier not knowing.....

He closed the curtains tight and walked back to the couch and snuggled into its deep cushions hoping for sleep to wash over.

4 comments:

Aditi Chawla said...

hey thanks a lot for ur comments...

Blue Max said...

:O
whatthisis??
marked departure from your usual style, why did I picture tracer bullet??

always a treat to read your blogs da. Making the best of a life given .. nice :)

Extremus Abnormalus said...

Feels like smooth flowing poetry buddy...Makes a fine read for a Sunday afternoon.
As always, very very well written!

Sandeep said...

@aditi-
U are always welcome

@blue max-
As they saw in Blore. "Publik change kelta ide " :)
Guess spending as much time u do outdoors, u'd appreciate this more than couch potatoes
Thx :)

@Babz
Appreciate dat..esp coming from a guy with ur literary credentials :)