Rain clouds loom large in the sky. At a signal, on one of the crossroads of life, there are people waiting to cross hoping the green light blinks before the rain drops down in torrents.
A crash of thunder and the signal turns green. The clouds open out into a heavy downpour. Umbrellas of grey and black mushroom out in no time. People don’t want to get wet, go home drenched and catch a cold.
Then there are others who rush to find a shelter and wait in the minuscule space, till the rain stops. And there are few who keep walking no matter how hard the rain splatters on their faces.
Within minutes the road is empty and the black tar shines.
But once in a while, there come a bunch of people who don’t bother about the rain. They carry with them an infectious cheerfulness which is all pervasive. They have umbrellas of the brightest hues. Be it a smoke in the alley or a mug of beer or piping hot chai, they have a way of taking everything in their happy stride. Even the lost feel at home.
The rain ceases to pour. The people are back to their mundane life.
The happy ones with coloured umbrellas linger on, giggling and laughing a contented laugh, jumping on little puddles like children, soaking in the joy of the moment.
And then they walk away just as happy as ever.
Posts
