With a heart full of gratitude

Rain brings respite from dry cold, and at the same time, ushers in the real winter. And it rained through the night and continued into the small hours of the morning. Tip tip tip… constant was the sound of falling raindrops. Sometimes it was the heavier pitter-patter and then it tired down to the slower tip-tip. It cast a musical spell.

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I open my eyes to the world and look out of the window. The scene has changed again but the joy remains unshorn. I seem to float as I fix my eyes on the floating flakes of white clouds in the sky. Trees are all bathed. Green leaves are slowly changing to yellow and would soon turn to a burnt sienna before they finally leave their mother branches. The upcoming sun peeps through the crevices betwixt the clouds and caresses those on the mango tree, giving them a golden hue. Only a few are left, yet they are happy to receive some, without a tinge of sadness, about only a few hours left of togetherness. Those on the top of the full tree abound in gratitude. A slow breeze makes them dance joyfully in their hive.

Lights at the front gate have now been switched off. The day is lazily coming up. My first cup of tea is almost empty. I pull the rug up to cover my knees. Some compulsive morning walkers are returning home, soaked to the skin. A maid is hurrying to her work. She is not carrying an umbrella but is desperately trying to cover her head with the pallu of her sari. A pack of dogs is on a slow trot looking for shelter and food. A couple of them have had a good mud bath. Some vehicles have started plying and you hear the sound of water getting rolled over their tyres.

Birds are playing hide and seek in the branches and sometimes you see them wobbling off water from their wings. Lethargy has crawled into the bones of my dogs as well. They are spread on the rug in the lobby, each tightly hugging on to its own self.

I walk upstairs and sit in my chair. Yesterday’s newspaper lies folded on the table. The entire expanse is engulfed in varying shades of grey. One bird with a long tail and magnificent colours around its neck has come to sit on the railing. It tilts its head towards me to have a good look at the old man. A slight movement from my side and it takes a flight to some other rooftop or a tree.

I gaze at the vacant plots across the road. There are trees at their boundaries. I am reminded of the greenery that had suddenly sprung up during the last rainy season, filling up the emptiness in between. How life in these plants had survived the sweltering heat of May and June only in the hope of showers! Their quickness to respond to nature should be a part of the curriculum in schools to teach gratitude to humans. In gratitude, even the small plants raise their heads to be counted, without any grudges. I recollect Chesterton’s lines, ‘And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.’