At the spur of the moment

The clouds are parting in the horizon, giving a picture perfect scene that you can only see in paintings. The gray one hovering above the slightly Aqua tarnished skies; and just right below it, the mountain ranges are standing in all their glory amid the apparent gloom. From where I am sitting, squinting my eyes to see more clearly, the green blanket of forests (I presume) are waving at me.

How ironic, I think. Tall skyscrapers are blocking this only view of serenity from my office window.

The white clouds are at a losing end, yet still fighting. I am rooting for them. I hate the gloom. I have this crazy notion that more often than not, the weather dictates my mood. And this morning is a testimony. I woke up all cranky at the sound of the rain lashing at my window. It was an angry pour and I was as mad as hell.

Just a bit later, the white clouds appear to be winning. Now, that’s quite a gap that separates the dark clouds from the mountains (about three-fourths of my thumb now). A few minutes more and the sky is completely azure. No traces of the darkness that enveloped it just less than an hour ago. It’s like witnessing how good can win against evil; it’s fascinating. And the mountains are boasting of the triumph as now, their majesty is all visible.