A CLOUDY DAWN
It was a Sunday morning when I planned for a morning walk on my garden lawn. The weather seemed humid and dry as the green grasses poked my bare foot. There wasn’t any sign of dew as it was there one week back. The chirping birds laid low on the dry branches, and the trees didn’t get a taste of fresh rain water for several months. There wasn’t any cool breeze either.
I opted f
It was a Sunday morning when I planned for a morning walk on my garden lawn. The weather seemed humid and dry as the green grasses poked my bare foot. There wasn’t any sign of dew as it was there one week back. The chirping birds laid low on the dry branches, and the trees didn’t get a taste of fresh rain water for several months. There wasn’t any cool breeze either.
I opted f
or sitting on a concrete bench rather than strolling down the circular garden.
An uncharacteristic call of the cuckoo made me look up to the nearby trees. The clouds I noticed, hung low and seemed heavy. It may be an enviable sight to an artist, but today this sight made my hearts apprehensive for the rains. I too waited like a male peacock for the outpour.
A drop dripped from the skies and it fell directly on my right eye. The second fell on my hand which was laid on the bench and in no time, the droplets were converted to a waterfall from the skies. I enjoyed different tones of raindrops as they happily splattered on the ground.
Children in the society came running to the garden. They splashed the puddles as the rain poured relentlessly. I too felt like joining them to rekindle the kid inside me, but opted for the observational part. The adjoining trees sheltered many birds who sat patiently with fluffed feathers. The excess water streamed beneath my legs. I laid my thumb to feel it, as it percolated from the sides of the hurdle.
A football came bouncing to my side. It came from the boys, who had now opted playing football and made the lawn their FIFA ground.
The youngest in them shouted ‘Ball...ball,’
‘What’s your name?’ I asked him.
‘Krishna,’ he said with a lovely smile. Though one of his frontal teeths were missing, he still looked cute with his childish traits.
‘You guys like playing in the rain?’ I asked a common question.
‘Yesss...’ they shouted unanimously.
The ball was tossed in the mid air as I made my way to home in the symphonic lullaby of rain and thunder lights flickering volts of light, like someone was clicking pics with his camera and the flash sounds came in the form of thunders which made eveyone shrill.
-Joseph Kattukaren.
An uncharacteristic call of the cuckoo made me look up to the nearby trees. The clouds I noticed, hung low and seemed heavy. It may be an enviable sight to an artist, but today this sight made my hearts apprehensive for the rains. I too waited like a male peacock for the outpour.
A drop dripped from the skies and it fell directly on my right eye. The second fell on my hand which was laid on the bench and in no time, the droplets were converted to a waterfall from the skies. I enjoyed different tones of raindrops as they happily splattered on the ground.
Children in the society came running to the garden. They splashed the puddles as the rain poured relentlessly. I too felt like joining them to rekindle the kid inside me, but opted for the observational part. The adjoining trees sheltered many birds who sat patiently with fluffed feathers. The excess water streamed beneath my legs. I laid my thumb to feel it, as it percolated from the sides of the hurdle.
A football came bouncing to my side. It came from the boys, who had now opted playing football and made the lawn their FIFA ground.
The youngest in them shouted ‘Ball...ball,’
‘What’s your name?’ I asked him.
‘Krishna,’ he said with a lovely smile. Though one of his frontal teeths were missing, he still looked cute with his childish traits.
‘You guys like playing in the rain?’ I asked a common question.
‘Yesss...’ they shouted unanimously.
The ball was tossed in the mid air as I made my way to home in the symphonic lullaby of rain and thunder lights flickering volts of light, like someone was clicking pics with his camera and the flash sounds came in the form of thunders which made eveyone shrill.
-Joseph Kattukaren.
