This 19th evening of May

It was my immense fortune and privilege, among other things, that the first rains in Pune should descend on the very day that I travel beyond my normal route to procure cake for my brother’s birthday.

This I say, because the rains forced the sun into a corner today; a corner wherefrom all the sun could do, was shine behind a sheety layer of thin clouds and dust, thus emanating a shade I like to call “Nostalgic Yellow” – Asian paints might just have something on these lines. Might. Just.

Anyhow.
There stood the sun, high up in the sky, nearing the horizon with every passing minute. One could see an air of defeat looming on his face, visible in a distorted mass through the clouds. It seemed as if he was expressing his nostalgic blues through the one language his condition and orientation allowed him to muster – Yellow.

However, just as one was about to begin working on a sad obituary for the setting sun, realization struck.
One suddenly caught a glimpse of a fleeting smile on the face of the sun. And then one knew of the conniving role that he had himself played in the larger magic that had enveloped the world that moment.

The rains had descended, the clouds had surrounded the big star, but at some level, it had all been with an implicit consent by the tyrant sun himself. It seemed as if the dictator that had menaced his subjects in the dry and hot afternoons all these days, had himself willed for such a downfall; for it was not that he didn’t care for his tiny subjects on this 3rd rock, rather, the heat was a convoluted combination of disciplinarianism and love; and he knew that after a while, tough love degenerates to downright tyranny; and his subjects deserved better.

Thus the last 3-4 days or so had been ones of tremendous internal conflict for the poor old man. To give in to his conception of what was his right and duty, would mean to further torment the little ones here, while the other option would be tantamount to giving up on his powers; on his hold on his beloveds. In fact, to let go of the very children he had nurtured all these years, and prod them to go forward and explore another dimension of cosmological affection; that of the element of water, and the gentle arms of the wind that come with it.

He knew that the people would love the change; that people would pounce on this chance, and live a million nights in one; that for those hours of exquisite, untouchable elevation, his children would forget that he ever even existed. His only hope, the one thing which could prevent him from recoiling into a shell of possession, paranoia and a directionless fright, was that the morning after, people would thank the forces for the wonders of the previous evening, and be gracious enough to seek the blessings of the old star; the star of yesterday, of yesteryears, of yesterlives; of all eternity, or at least till where the mind chooses to see at this moment.

Comforting himself with this belief, the sun laid down his aged arms, reclined under the clouds that had previously seemed menacing, and perhaps even shared a joke or two with them.
And with that, began the transition from ‘Nostalgic Blues’ to a parade of infinite hues, all resplendent with a love that didn’t wish to possess. For from that moment onwards, every opened eye could see that smile on the sun’s serene face, and every single object that was caressed by the mellowed rays of the sun, knew that it was a moment of immense, immaculate love that was passing it by. With this realization, one experienced the true value of living a moment; of looking around and reading the poetry that had so ingeniously been woven into every fibre of life.

One turned to head back home and share this magic with all the people one had been blessed enough to know. Before that, one stood still for just a few moments more, and looked.
The sky, parted into two halves of blue and yellow, dividing all the world with it; the gentle drops that could hardly contain their boundless joy; the very air that carried with it a universe of blithe purpose and loving.

With that, one knew that this day had been special.
The sun was blissfully calm and half asleep somewhere. His subjects were rejoicing here. Goodness was all one could see.