an ashen spring, like never before

some mornings its almost as if natures beckons me to wake up early, at ungodly hours and then lose myself into the interplay of what's unraveling outside the window.

this morning i woke up just before 7, to swollen, grey skies, hiding a million secrets inside them.

i drew the curtains of the two giant windows in my bedroom and sat there - struck. oh, to be wishful of rains!

after a minute of noticing the minutiae of the games pigeons played outside, i headed to the living room and lifted the giant curtain off the window to see the pregnant bellies of the ashen skies.

a gulmohar tree at my balcony is in full bloom, as is most of nature. it sprung out of nowhere, just on one such similar morning it was there in front of our eyes, mocking the deadness with which time has come to a screeching halt, elongating, expanding and nearly shrinking everyday as we try to make sense of it.

the fern-like leaves of the tree, created a vibrant silhouette against the potbellied sky. it's flamboyant display of orange-red flowers, taking over the visceral senses like never before.

i stood there, my elbows precariously perched on the balcony, struck at the awning beauty and allowed it to take over all my senses.

'the spring is a riot of poignancy', i read somewhere earlier this week. yesterday i saw a pregnant woman in my neighbourhood drive her small hyundai hatchback. the ash grey car, covered with gulmohar flowers and pigeon poop. every inch of existence mocking our being, an April never felt before.

coming from the acrid lands of Uttar Pradesh, i barely experienced any rain growing up. mostly it was the mucky, tepid summers and then the soot-addled dust storms.

forever parched, my heart aches to live in a city with abundant rains, where the skies don't just 'show' promise, but also deliver. my one year long stint in Pune, remains dear to me for so many reasons, but the monsoons take the cake.

as i sit here, typing these words on the laptop, a cup of chai sitting next to me, the yellows of the sun beat down on the buildings outside, while the gulmohar tree sways gently in the April wind.

i have checked the weather app on my phone, and there are no rains to be felt in this coming week, but the heart wants what it wants, and the belly aches for the touch of some raindrops on the spread open palms...

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