Sunday Morning Up with the lark

What an absolutely lovely morning! Heat and dust washed clean by last night’s heavy downpour; a cool, cool breeze that is so Bangalore; seduction by the tantalizing scent of the pristine-looking jasmine; birds trilling with all their might…

What’s not to love about such a morning! People are out in droves — walking, jogging, taking their dogs for a walk. The morning sounds calmer, notwithstanding that it’s a Sunday. People just sound more tolerant of their fellow-beings as maids and security guards and vendors talk, chat, or discuss whatever is on their agenda. Even the bikes, cars and tempos passing by appear to have tuned their motors to almost dulcet tones.

I sit in my lovely balcony, surrounded by bursts of color — the red hibiscus, the purplish alamanda, the wickedly innocent jasmine, the orange rose, the white and violet bougainvillea, and the greens. Oh the greens! The emeralds and the lime-greens, the olives and the pistachio and the bright greens…what a sight for sore eyes! The palm fronds below dance like peacocks, quivering in the breeze. The leaves of the tree opposite rustle like silk. The indoor plants all tremble in excitement.

As I sip my golden green tea, the steam uncurling like the finger of an invisible artist into the nippy air, I realize: I am happy.

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