May 30, 2013
The silent night is now preparing for its slumber, heralding the awakening of the daylight. As I remained numbly awake, soothing streams of music that flew in a mellow hue, down to the tunnel of my eardrums, found a connection with memories which tenderly transported me to a nostalgic float. My unsteady head rested gently on the pillow, and the pillow orchestrated clutters of reminiscences. By then, my weary eyes had just shimmered from the stain of some aging teardrops as if they’d set themselves free from bondage in my eyes, and had opened themselves to a new vision, a vision that stretched so serenely to an epoch where my mind, I foresaw, would be a smiling traveler, treading on contentment.
The smiling traveler sets out on a solitary journey, walking on a field that stretches to no bounds. As he walks on, the sky seems to understand him and, like a congenial companion, uncovers layers of different colors above his head. He stops walking; pauses and ponders for a moment. As his smile fades, the sky sullenly turns grey and remains still, as if protesting against his stillness and demanding him to keep walking on. Then he looks up and curves a bargaining smile; the sky hesitantly removes the grey layer and unwillingly spreads a turquoise carpet in slow motion. The traveler chuckles at the altering mood of the sky, allowing himself to sense an affectionate communion with it. And to his unwitting surprise, the sky instantly synchronizes itself with a sudden flash of bright purple rays, and in a reflex, everything turns into purple - those stooping trees in distance, those standing scarecrows nearby fields, and those narrow watery lanes, everything!
The traveler walks on in a gleeful mood, and stops by a tree. He is amused by the sight of the tree, for it has all the features of a perfect tree, with strong branches spread to directions manifold, but the height. It has the height same as that of a plant’s; as much as only three feet it would stand. He takes out a scrap of paper and a pen, scribbles some words, draws a rich curve of smile, wets the edge of the paper by his tongue, and sticks it on the tree. He then walks on. No sooner has he walked five yards ahead, than an unexpected noise starts to materialize. He turns around, and, to his utter surprise, sees that the tree has been enveloped by a flock of colorful birds. They are a blend of spectacular features, with different chirping tunes. The traveler, with his constant smile on his face, stands there for a while, witnessing the “epitome of beauty”, as his mind calls it; and he walks on. He gazes to the far end where the field meets the sky. Above him, the sky unfurls to a canvas of happiness. It turns into fresh crimson red tinged with comforting golden rays.
The golden rays touch my skin. My skin feels warm. I slowly open my eyes. I can hear the birds chirping merrily. I reach my hands out to the window. I look out. And I smile.
The morning breeze is here,
The sky looks so clear.
Etch a name to rise,
This sunrise.
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