I sat there, looking out of the window

I sat there, looking out of the window.

My head leaning against the wall

The glass pane stretching from the corner of my eye to meet the length of the door, 4 metres away.

Without any effort,

I could see the tops of trees,

Greens of different shades –

Sap, emerald, viridian and olive

Swaying to the song of the gentle breeze.

I couldn’t hear the rustle but I could see the dance,

Feeling like the deaf lad at a performance until

The sound of a blaring car horn

Shifted my gaze to the street beneath.

You could feel the Saturday morning,

No one had to be anywhere by 9,

And no one had to pack lunches before 8.

There were just a couple of cars whizzing past

And an impatient bus driver following behind,

A man on a vintage scooter calmly riding on the wrong side,

A 20-something swiping through his phone while walking on the cemented footpath

Shop shutters were going up somewhere,

A black dog lazily roamed around a parked auto,

Two men were sitting on shabby plastic chairs and talking,

I could see one of them was growing bald from the centre

A lady was holding her bag of groceries and walking past,

A bunch of straws had already piled up near the coconut vendor,

Half the day was almost over for some,

While it had just begun for the others.

I sat there, looking out of the window.

LEARNING TO BE PATIENT FROM 8-YR-OLDS

Being a teacher isn’t an easy job when you’re averse to the idea of children. The noise, the tantrums, the mischief, the pranks and perhaps, even the inquisitive mind, can make children a difficult lot to handle if you’re low on patience. And yet, teachers stick on. They tolerate the naughtiness and the squeaky voices and sometimes, even miss it in the rather mundane, sophisticated company of organised, well-mannered adults. They stay not simply because they need to teach the ‘future generation’. It is the image of those innocent faces, curious eyes, oily ponytails and carefree smiles that makes them want to stay. It is in the little hurdles that they cross that a teacher experiences unmatched happiness. And the love received is multi-fold that you could never walk out of that classroom even on a bad day. 

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME?

I pondered over how I want to write this. But there is nothing that struck me. It’s been a month and perhaps the best way to say it, is by keeping it simple and sweet.

Simple questions with simple answers. It all started with a suggestion from one of my blog followers. Since then, it got me thinking.

When was the last time we actually enjoyed life? To pinpoint what enjoy means is definitely a bit hard. But if you had to pick one from the recent past, which incident would you recollect?