The joy of cycling in the rain,
add the fact of it being around
one of the majestic lakes in the romantic city,
the stately Aravalli in the background
with clouds swarming around
in that astounding fusion of black and white,
which only HE can paint.
For me very few joys are enjoyable
like that of cycling in the rains
and I actually begin conversing with myself then.
Also the gushing wind
pushing me nearer to the gradually filling up lake
reminding me
that this was one of those special moments of life,
which one treasures.
This is not one of those moments
when your heart skips a beat
like on reading your mothers letter,
asking you to take care,
in a way only a mother can.
But this surely is one of those moments,
which fills up your heart
with the right portion of simplicity, joy, innocence
and life itself.

The lake accepting the raindrops
in its squeezing lap
bestowing a sort of sacred feeling to the ambience.
The Aravalli has begun to welcoming the fresh green cover
with the look on a street urchins face
on being given a new shirt.
The clouds like me,
taking a purposeful turn in life,
wanting to break new grounds and give life a meaning.
That joy of rain drops hitting me on the face
and that feel of watery clothes clinging on to the skin
give a certain feeling of freedom
and a strange reminisce of childhood where,
today we all wish,
life should have paused for the better.
The smiles
and that look of thankfulness on the faces of the local populace
reminded me
that though we mortals are ever at HIS mercy
we remember HIM only on special occasions
and thank him only for his tangible actions.
Me, the lake, the hills, the clouds, the rains,
just like friends uniting after a long time
with that intimacy amidst us
which only friends possess.

After all, its small spontaneous joys like these
that we remember years hence
when sitting with friends,
not the planned social occasions.
It all makes me realize the simple joys
I have missed running behind the unattainable,
and like my mother’s letter asks me to live life.