Darkness….

As I begin to write this, curled up under a blanket on my bed, looking at the greyish black sky outside from my window, accompanied by the rampant caws of the crows, followed by a faint bark of the nearby canines, I discover beauty. Those that call Mumbai to be the “City of Dreams”, and the one that never sleeps, perhaps have had ample substantiations and first-hand experiences, as I can vividly hear the buses blowing their horns and the rattling repetitive sound of the rickshaws. 

From somewhere a little far off, the morning Fajr (the sunrise prayer of the Muslims) could be heard in a cyclic motion. This far from my bed, I can feel its vibrations, and so does my cat, who has stopped meowing, closing its eyes, and gently curling up against his blanket. Serene. Peaceful. Or should I say bliss? I wouldn’t know for sure, but those that have experienced the same would opine likewise. 

The vast, gigantic sky outside hasn’t become bright yet, still wrapped under the greyish tinge, it portrays beauty and heralds eternal proximity, much similar to those of the relationships with the beloved. As if it’s beckoning us to run straight into its arms right there. 

The stoic might eye this with a flavour of obfuscation, and put forward that this spectacle doesn’t showcase any novelty, and that it’s exactly identical to how things were the day before. Yet, the hopeless romantic inside knows that all of that was yesterday has multiplied itself manifold today, and would be evolving even more tomorrow. And, what is that soul that condemns darkness, associates itself with fear, when all that it can give in return is pure happiness and joy?

Now, as I look at the sky, I can see that it’s beginning to whiten slowly little by little, the prayer has stopped, yet the crows caw more. With more intensity and vigour this time, nothing holds them back from their cheerfulness, nothing seems to deter them, not even the “uncertain” and “unprecedented” times. They keep on flying, soaring high and cawing…

And, who lays the founding stone, rather who does pave the pathway for everything beautiful to happen? Darkness. One that embraces the whitening phenomena, one that knows when and how to take a sabbatical, leaving the way for the glory of the morning, and when to appear all over again. Darkness, one that plays an amiable host to the moon and the stars, one that is a witness to all the promises young lads and maidens make while they do spot a shooting star. Darkness, the all-pervading. Darkness, the omniscient, and transcendental.

One that constructs a concrete road, not only for the stars, comets, meteors and the heavenly bodies, but more amateurs like me, that gives me ample reasons to stare at the same, losing track of time, and pen down my next piece from whatever little my eyes could provide or the heart could see.

Image Courtesy: Pixabay