My Window - It protects me from rain and sun but lets in the fresh air when I feel suffocated. I can close it when I want to hide and I can open it when I want to look outside at the other world that exsists with my own world. The world that might not be as good as mine or at times maybe much better than mine.
That window can be the window of my cab with which I go to my office. In the afternoon, speeding on the highway I can see buildings standing tall on the one side of the road and a flat span of slums on the otherside. The buildings with so many people living dont know whats happening to the people living next to them while in slums people living in one room can feel the pain and joy of all the people living around them. The cab stops at a red light signal and a big car comes and stop next to me. I see a person reading newspaper and a sleek laptop lying beside him. He is wearing gold frame glasses and the windows are up to indicate a/c is on. The money is definately there but is he happy? Sitting on the other side of my window...am I happy? The signal turns green and a bike rushes past my car and I see a young guy with a flashy helmet rushing past. Makes me wonder, whats the hurry? Why everyone is rushing somewhere these days? While my car slowly picks up the speed, I see an old man sitting under the shade of a huge baniyan tree selling newspapers. Atleast someone is sitting peacefully in this age of unneccessary speed...
Then there is the sliding window of my home, where I can sit comfortably and look outside and beyound into the open space. That is my way to the outside world during night when I usually come back from office. Its beautiful to look outside when the whole world is sleeping. The magic of sleep creates an aura of silence which seems pure after the whole day of work. Beyond my window stands an almond tree, which stands there battered by winds and rains. The fruit hanging there respective of the fact that all leaves have fallen and the tree itself looks weak. In that almond tree I see the reflection of most of us as however winds of change try to bend us, we protect our dearest ones with atmost protection. However tired we are we never let go of the things, people or memories which are dearest to us. Beyound that is an open area where the construction of a new building is taking place. Most of the people live in make shift arrangments. There is smoke rising from one of the tin house there. Seeing that smoke makes me feel good...atleast the people inside had their meal. It starts raining. The smoke slowly fades away into the darkness and people run to take cover into their houses made up of tin roof and tin walls. Seems like a doll house from my window with real people living inside it. The voice of the rain drowns the silence I am used to. Seems like rain got tired of the silence of night...
So what does the world on the other side of your window tells you? What stories stick to your mind when you look outside into the world which at times is so different from your that it makes you feel...will they ever meet?
