Morning magicπŸ’•

I sit right on top of a bean bag. Back straight, the idea is not to slouch, it is to wake up and welcome this stunning day.

Bird calls surround me and a deep silence permeates this hour.

My eyes are drawn to the peacock sitting on the tree far away. Is he up yet, I wonder. Will he take flight as I look at him from afar?

The air is cool and still has that nip in it that makes one want to embrace oneself. It is fragrant too, with half opened buds and the ‘seniors’ that have been gracing the pots for a few months now…

The sky changes colour even as I write. The sun is trying to assert its dominance.

The peacock is up but has no intention to fly just yet… Like me, it seems mesmerized by the extraordinary beauty, of a simple morning…. πŸ’•

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Polka Party!!

The streets and roads are an unforgiving place when the monsoons hit… Flooding and jams are rampant. 

Somehow, the street children find joy in that too. They run from car to car, drenched to the bone, trying to sell colourful polka-dotted balloons, their mischievous grins in place πŸ™‚ 

They teach me more abour life and adversity and coping than any book can…