It was raining, in January, on a cold winter night. I usually hate the rain. Everything about it – starting from my most anticipated plans getting postponed last moment to the fear of getting my shoes wet, everything about it. But there is also this uncanny tranquility that comes with staying in your bedroom while it’s pouring outside.
So, I go to my balcony to light up a cigarette. There’s not much to see on the roads at midnight. You wouldn’t expect to see people voluntarily getting soaked at this time of the night. But there was a man who caught my eye. Shielding his head from the rain, walking in the middle of the road that’s usually very busy during the day, with his bicycle. He did not look agitated by the rain, just a little protection to keep the cold at bay was all he needed.
Maybe, he was headed home from a long day at work. Maybe, he was summoned for work. All I know that he was not there voluntarily. I did not know his struggle, however, he seemed to be enjoying his walk with his companion, the bicycle.
That made me wonder how we see our friends’ having fun, going to fancy places, and we try to recreate those moments for ourselves. But, not the little moments like this, that gives us a fond memory, just to keep to ourselves, but not to share it with the world.
I wish I could borrow that moment from him. Just that one particular moment. The peace that comes with walking alone, late at night, with a rusty bicycle by your side, in the winter rain.
Trying to find the perfect balance between two incoherent things; cats and melancholy. I love music enough to sing, but not enough to compose my own. Hence, I put my little efforts into making sense out of random words floating about my mind all day.