The window

It is happening outside and I am resting on my armchair, scribbling in my green notebook. There is a soft cold light in the living room from the four sets of open windows. As a photographer, I love window lighting. It is one of the most attractive kinds of lighting, especially for portraits and still life. So during daytime, when I am home, I switch off all the other lights and keep the windows open and curtains drawn apart

It has stopped and I smell fresh earth. From whatever I can see from my relaxed posture, there is a renewed vibrancy in the colors of nature around my dwelling. There is a blissful lull and an occasional whiff of cool air, which at times stays out and at other times seeps in through the mosquito nets. I can hear the surroundings, which had died, regaining life. The first rays of the peeking sun streaming in through the top window hits my face and I am blinded. I sit there enjoying the lukewarm sun on my face on this dark cold day.

It has been almost an hour since the sun came out. Now I can hear a faint, albeit distant, heavy rumble. Dark hideous monsters are descending from the peaks faraway and heading towards my window of light. It is getting closer and the window of light high up in the sky is losing its battle with the dark monsters. The light making its way through my window is battling for life; getting blocked for a while and then coming back alive again. It is dying.

I don`t see the window of light in the sky anymore. The sky is just a dark grey canvas varying in intensity from place to place. It starts again at an unforeseen moment and I am still resting on my armchair waiting for another window of light.

(This piece was one of the assignments which I did during the creative writing course which I took recently)

window

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