Though i had woken up , I was still on my bed, lying cozily wrapped-up in my quilt, dreamily following the raindrops and the dark clouds that had completely blanketed the evening sky, making it look all the more appealing . There was a sense of serenity in the air, maybe that's the beauty of the season. That early-morning-nip-in-the-air waala season , haye life seems just too happpy during such times . Leaving your homes in the morning and folding your pants to your knees and walking to your school-college-work-nowhere splashing water all over , chapaaak-chapak, exclaiming at the rich spoilt brat with the "i am back from youuuu-aaaaass-aayeee" look , who ruined your record of not-bathing-for-a-month by driving past you and wetting you , with a bonus package of a wet mud pack. And then sitting the whole day with wet socks , yes there's good in that too. It's all about timing . Maybe that's the beauty of this season.
With the entire picture of the next day's morning in my mind , i got up and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for myself . The tea was still brewing and the milk , boiling , when i got a message from my bestfriend . She said , there was a bomb outside her office and she's on her way back home . Half confused and half bewildered , I was wondering the big deal about a "laxmi-bomb" until she mentioned words like police and evacuation .
My heart skipped its next beat and then began to pace faster than usain bolt when i realized what that meant . Yes , it's all about timing . She was safe now but the very thought of her being sooo close to a live-actual-bomb sent chills down my spine . I simply didn't know what to do and how to react. I wanted to know more about it , but somehow couldn't gather the courage to ask anything more . I sat down and shut my eyes , and prayed for a minute . I don't know what is it that i prayed for , but i simply did . Somewhere , i kicked myself for being selfish and remembering God only when i needed him , but nevertheless , i just did that . She was home in the next fifteen minutes .
I heaved a sigh of relief . Went back to the kitchen , the water had boiled off & hot falls of milk were flowing down the burner to the sink . It's all about timing ! I turned the gas off and cleaned it up . I looked out , it was still raining .
I wore my crocs and went out for a walk , i probably needed that . I was still scared and frightened . i wondered - the uberly basic question . WHY . Why does this happen . I remember reading Ajmal Qasab's interview after he had attacked on the 26/11 and before he was hanged , it didn't make sense then , it doesn't make sense even now . How can you plainly become so disdainful that you can take innocent lives without any rhyme and reason . And what can we commoners do about it ?? It feels so helpless , it feels so weak . People speak of not living in fear and things like that , even i would say that to my family and friends , but when it'd come to letting them do the same , I'd think twice first and then probably ask them to stay away . Im sure most of you would do that too . It's a maze and there's no answer to it because the reality is , somewhere, we are simply puppets in the hands of the government , the system and the terrorists .
I checked my watch , it was 7 30 pm , the rains had stopped , i began to walk back towards my home . it was muddy and my wet clothes felt sticky . It was irritating . A zooming car brushed past me , splattering a large deal of muddy water on me . I yelled at him , calling him names but he didn't stop , I ofcourse knew he anyway wouldn't have . It didn't feel good this time . Yes , it still was the nip-in-the-air waala season , but it didn't feel good then . Maybe it's all about the timing ! Maybe that's the beauty of -something- too . ..
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