Overlooking the tall buildings and the span of an entire city out of my window, the morning sun finally seen after months of cloudy,wet,cold winter mornings, new born leaves just sprouting on little branches that were lifeless just yesterday, the sky looking calm like it was at peace after a long time, a warm cup of coffee in hand, Pt. Shiv kumar Sharma's santoor playing in the back ground.... a perfect morning!
I've had many such perfect mornings and somehow all of them remind me of these mornings that came by at home. Lazy Sunday, wake up late, mom and dad on the porch outside, tea pot and the whole set laid out on the little round table in front, dad with the newspaper sprawled in front of his face, mom sipping slowly on a boiling hot cup of tea..quiet..just enjoying the fact that such a morning exists. Little drops of rain resting on the leaves, the earth with the typical fragrance of rain, the sun shy behind the clouds, yet radiant. An 8 yr old me...eyes half open, squinting to avoid the sudden brightness of the morning, sleepily walking, rubbing my eyes, oblivious to every thing around except the final destination of my mother's lap. Cradled in her arms, oblivious to demands of brushing my teeth and freshening up, drink milk and all other sundry, just feeling her heart beat against my cheek, smell the rain filled air, an obscure yellow orange ball ..an image of the sun with my eyes closed... it's heat soothing... in the background Pt Shiv kumar Sharma's santoor floating in the air from a cassette that has lived life for a while now.
Through all the perfect mornings that came my way, I realise that the 8yr old in me never grew up. She still rubs her eyes, walks sleepily oblivious to everythign around in search of the final destination of her mother's lap.
No comments:
Post a Comment