As it often happens in Gurgaon the power just decides it is overworked and shuts itself in its cocoon. I manage to slouch out of bed and over to the balcony. My perch being on the 7th floor i manage to spend a considerable amount of my time just watching people. You may call me a watcher but i prefer being called an observer. But today I was in for a pleasant surprise. And the stage was set for a picture perfect morning.
The air was damp and rain was imminent. The breeze was what you can only describe as 'just so'. It couldnt have been any better. And while i was watching people getting on with their mundane tasks a gentle spray hit my face. It felt refreshing. Nothing like the tender touch of soft rain on your lips to arouse you. Well almost nothing like it. The wind not wanting to be outdone picked up. The gentle rain kissing the earth in pathches. Savage bouts of lusty winds. It was all a heady mix of pleasure.
A pink umbrella caught my eye. A frail figure, almost mannequin like, was latching onto it. She was fighting the wind for the umbrella. The wind almost snatches it away from her but she gamely hangs on. To win a glimpse of her face i root desperately for the wind. Tufts of hair fly around but she is a fighter. After a few minutes of fiery competition the wind overpowers her. The umbrella is blown away and then, as if to prove a point, the wind then just dies. The wind was at the moment, palpable. Even she is quite amused by the playfulness surrounding her. In that stillness i see her. She was undulatingly beautiful. And then in an instant she looks up and sees me too. I give an understanding look and she smiles back. We understood each other. Perfectly.
But alas! Her husband comes along with an overcoat and she playfully wraps herself around his warm arms.
Sigh. Life is such a tease.