Date: 02.11.2007
Time: 6:25 p.m.
I went up to the terrace after many long years. It is still the same as ever, only, quieter now since you don’t find kite flyers and laughing little children there anymore.
When I went up, the sky had darkened considerably. The clouds were hardly visible, the traffic and noisy rickshaws had softened their outpouring of sound, and there was little, if not hardly any rustling of the palm tree leaves. Now I don’t live in a particularly picturesque part of the city, however the dying orange of the horizon contrasting with the welcoming midnight blue did make a very beautiful sight.
And of course, I had my music with me. Somehow, this evening, it seemed to stretch on and fill the entire space before me — space that was lying empty and forgotten. I climbed up this ‘outcrop’ (a supporting leg of an elevated water tank) and sat there … listening and watching the sky lights dim before my eyes. For some strangely surprising reason, a lot of tiny fireworks were shot off into the evening sky. I watched those sparkling bits of fiery colour whoosh up and then fall silently as they began to lose their spark after a few minutes of livid living.
Looking around, I noticed new additions to the terrace. There were many tiny satellite dishes perched along the terrace boundaries. They leered down at the streets below like condescending spiders gleefully watching approaching prey. There was also another living creature parked right below the ‘outcrop’ on which I was perched — a rather pretty potted plant that had been hiding in the shadows of the water tank.
Somehow, the clothing lines seemed lower today. The water tank, which used to be out of the reach of a tiny little girl who would look on wistfully as the much taller and older ‘adult-like almost adult’ creatures would jump and sit on it, was no longer an inaccessible mountain waiting to be conquered along with the years lying ahead. There were no stern voices warning against bending too much and falling over the stony railings. No animated laughter, no hurried scrambling to recover a straying cricket ball, no subdued murmuring of the wind brushing against clothes let out to dry. I was alone. But I did not mind it. I was comfortable below the steadily darkening sky and the open space before me.
I was free to scream at the top of my lungs, and hoarsely accompany my favourite songs playing inside my ears, my head and my soul. As I stood with my back resting against the edge of the water tank, I felt alive and awake. The breeze that was gently caressing my face and hair did not pause enough to produce much sound. My voice, ecstatic at being given the chance to break free of the constraints of a small room, was liberated and glad. I gazed up at the sky and felt grateful that I could witness the world in all its glory as I realised that no camera can capture what the human eye can see.
I was content.
End: 6:55 p.m.
Time: 6:25 p.m.
I went up to the terrace after many long years. It is still the same as ever, only, quieter now since you don’t find kite flyers and laughing little children there anymore.
When I went up, the sky had darkened considerably. The clouds were hardly visible, the traffic and noisy rickshaws had softened their outpouring of sound, and there was little, if not hardly any rustling of the palm tree leaves. Now I don’t live in a particularly picturesque part of the city, however the dying orange of the horizon contrasting with the welcoming midnight blue did make a very beautiful sight.
And of course, I had my music with me. Somehow, this evening, it seemed to stretch on and fill the entire space before me — space that was lying empty and forgotten. I climbed up this ‘outcrop’ (a supporting leg of an elevated water tank) and sat there … listening and watching the sky lights dim before my eyes. For some strangely surprising reason, a lot of tiny fireworks were shot off into the evening sky. I watched those sparkling bits of fiery colour whoosh up and then fall silently as they began to lose their spark after a few minutes of livid living.
Looking around, I noticed new additions to the terrace. There were many tiny satellite dishes perched along the terrace boundaries. They leered down at the streets below like condescending spiders gleefully watching approaching prey. There was also another living creature parked right below the ‘outcrop’ on which I was perched — a rather pretty potted plant that had been hiding in the shadows of the water tank.
Somehow, the clothing lines seemed lower today. The water tank, which used to be out of the reach of a tiny little girl who would look on wistfully as the much taller and older ‘adult-like almost adult’ creatures would jump and sit on it, was no longer an inaccessible mountain waiting to be conquered along with the years lying ahead. There were no stern voices warning against bending too much and falling over the stony railings. No animated laughter, no hurried scrambling to recover a straying cricket ball, no subdued murmuring of the wind brushing against clothes let out to dry. I was alone. But I did not mind it. I was comfortable below the steadily darkening sky and the open space before me.
I was free to scream at the top of my lungs, and hoarsely accompany my favourite songs playing inside my ears, my head and my soul. As I stood with my back resting against the edge of the water tank, I felt alive and awake. The breeze that was gently caressing my face and hair did not pause enough to produce much sound. My voice, ecstatic at being given the chance to break free of the constraints of a small room, was liberated and glad. I gazed up at the sky and felt grateful that I could witness the world in all its glory as I realised that no camera can capture what the human eye can see.
I was content.
End: 6:55 p.m.
12 comments:
I am going up to my terrace right now :D....beautifully sketched descriptions,with a keen eye for details.it reminded me of my childhood days,i hardly go up to the terrace nowadays....but now i surely plan to take out some time and do it :P
Hmm... Hmm... The outcrop on which the tank rests... One of my favourite haunts too...
The terrace you described is so much like ours...
You really don't do it often enough, do you? :/
HOW i ask HOW can you write so well?
VERY beautifully descriptive..
:]
whoa... amazin description... reminded me of my old terrace... dont hav one nemore.. :(... u tcz.. cheers!
Nuanced and beautiful...a kind of stratified serenity is seen in this one.
But you didn't find pigeons either did you? Atleast I don't anymore...
Oh yes. :)
wish i cud go back up on my terrace and yes i fly kites myself
Freedom at its best. I love my own "standstills" on my terrace.
It's beautiful, and somewhat, y'know... hopeful.
I've just gotten back to visiting blogs. And I'm glad you still write and is nurturing your gift to do so :) I always feel that way... the need to scream and to satisfy the desire to do so. You and only you can describe something as mundane as a terrace so vividly and colorfully... :)
i miss those evenings on my terrace!
beautiful descriptions
Bricky: Do it and I assure you it will be worth it! :] Thanks.
Steelbunz: Ah, cool. I'd like to have a look at it one day...
Saturnalia's Offspring: I didn't, but it's sort of my favourite haunt these days. Hope I continue with this. :]
Ship: Thanks for finally gracing my comment box. :P Whahahaha. :]
Shimmer: Thanks. I hope you get to spend some time at one somewhere else then. :]
Jadis: There weren't any pigeons that day, but I've seen some on my other visits. Thank you.
Sayan: Yes.
Dream Baron: Oh well, you will get to once you're back home. Don't worry. Make as much use as you can of the open spaces where you are at present. Good luck.
Kaz: Yes. It is hopeful, since it involves the rediscovery of that fleeting bit of contentment brought about by freedom. I hope it stays. Thanks. :]
Princess Banter: Thank you. :]
BDC: Thanks. I hope you have beautiful evening where you are.
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