Skip to main content

Cold Nights

Then there were those nights. Long cold ones.
My sister and I would camp on top of our terrace.
Climb a 10 by 6 meter long water tank by measure of an old rusty ladder.

Cold January winter wind would blow away the chance for any fleeting insect to interrupt our conversations. We did nothing but lay back on our backs immune to the cold concrete beneath us gazing at stars as if each narrated a tale.

Minutes turned to hours and the nights went late only to be suddenly interrupted by the need to eat by someone among us and the long lecture by someone who would ask for more time.

A plane or two would land sometime infringing the peaceful circular motion of the sky and its family or the flickering of someones TV set from a nearby building taller than ours.

Few things mattered then in the pitch dark peaceful hideout - in the open yet away from all else.

Some days never return, I hope these do.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Feels

Patriotism for me was best depicted when SRK (in Swades) looks out of his window seconds before he is to set foot in India. Nothing describes detachment better than the wheels of a plane seconds after take off. This was exactly the opposite - done brilliantly. Meanwhile, AR Rahman used only 5 notes of the shehnai for SRK & the audiences to feel homesick repeatedly in the film. Even those who were in India felt homesick/guilty. The first film in a long time that did not show patriotism in the light  of violence, hatred and turbulent times and still struck a chord with the audiences. Wonder where the wiser filmmakers are hiding now or are the scripts. PS: This was also a rare time when an SRK films made sense to me. (I know this comment will draw flack for me)

The Taxi

Dark night, Yellow streaks, Dingy lights, Empty streets, Tricky ride, Wheels that squealed, Cold hands, Shivering feet, A long drive & a small seat. A conversation for company, A smile to convey.