Let there not be light

Please God please. Let there not be light. Even if just for another day. Keep it away. Because today, this large red balloon on the map has seen something it never has before. Silence. Calm. People dreaming in slow motion (for a change).

And most importantly, stopping to look. At the nature outside, that yearned. Yearned, but never quite succeeded to be heard like that shouting baby, for attention.

People even stopped to admire that white gas balloon that floated like a stunner in the sky.

Nature. A thing of beauty. Who always affectionately enveloped us. Like the mother's hug. The softest in the world. Like that heavenly quilt stuffed with cotton.

She gave us our dreams. Our poems, our songs. And maybe, even life in parts. In that beautiful slant of sunshine. That unexpected burst of rain.

But strangely, even tragically, always went unsung. Most insultingly disregarded.  

The city today is black, yes. But there is light all around in the eyes of the people, milling around on the road. Purposelessly, untainted by agenda (for a change). Not sprinting vapidly, but wandering. Relishing the melting moon. The only noise around is that of the winds speaking to each other, the freshly-bathed leaves singing a song. The streetlights are off, as are the screaming TV sets. The AC exhausts aren't yelling.

And the glimmering silver clouds are floating about, like sweet scented smoke.

In this grand scheme of things, Delhi cries hoarse. But somewhere deep down, it sleeps easy. Darkness, literally or metaphorically, is a way of life here. Often unaccepted, but never rejected. Tonight in Delhi, in this insomniac, athletic city, I strangely like the grid failure. Somewhere deep down, it completes a vicious circle. 

If anything, it's worth a think. Even if a little gingerly.