Monsoon

The sky seems heavier today. Its cries in anger blemish the calmness it had yesterday. The sooth in its blue has vanished. Chillness with thrill is waiving around as it has turned grey. It has been silent for long, hiving numerous drops from neighborhood. The heart of the sky had them all, despite of the pain it carried. Fused together, they lied their dormant and the heart garnered them with care, protecting them from the unwanted layers. The heart forgot how much it could effort and surpassed every boundary, entangled in its fatherly care…

The drops have been collecting, joining themselves together. Today, it seems they have taken their immense form. They have turned mature and it can be seen well by the way they are proclaiming for their freedom. They have started sieving the heart that dwelled them all when they lied separate in their decrepit form. The father’s heart that never showed its pain seems to shed its agony now. It has turned grey. It wants to rain…

Someone below the sky has a heart too; someone who gave birth to tiny decrepit drops, the mother. The mother wants to accept the pains and console the fatherly heart. “Someone’s grief, someone else’s relief, draws the rule of survival”, the mother pacifies. Till the sun shines, me and you survive, it has to be this way. Probably the sky knows it too. I can see it has slowed down, giving off whatever tiny bit it had in it.

My eyes are illuminating. I look around. And all around me, everything seems illuminated. The sun has tinged the sky. And I see a smile the sky has born. The sieved heart is most beautiful. It has seven colors on it now…