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They must have been really hungry for as soon as she set down the bowl, one of them-the brown one came jumping on its feet and started gulping the milk with a ‘plop, plop’ that indicated desperation. After what seemed like a few seconds, the mother made its way towards the bowl. Perhaps it was waiting for its kitten to satisfy itself first but the hunger was too much to be satiated in just a matter of seconds. The other one remained under the wooden table as they drank; walking, hopping, meowing around.

She stood there, waiting and gazing at them with the love of a stranger for yes; they were very strange to her. She had not looked at them and found herself filled with so much endearment before. And in an insane moment, there crept in her a desire to touch them. She had never touched them before nor had she ever wanted to. Turning her back to them, she breathed a deep breath-the kind she breathed when she admired nature. Embracing the early morning delicacies, she fell in wonder all over again at the crisp of the rustling leaves against the beautiful melt of the orange horizon into the blue and the gold. In a distance, she thought she heard a sparrow- the chirpy tweet that she relished waking up to.

It was not very windy that morning but she could feel the composure in the breeze; she knew there was some, for it had always soothed her. When she broke from her reverie and turned around, they were fast asleep. One does not like the tough cold porch floor for a bed. In that instant, she realized there was much more she could do instead of just reaching out to feel their fur. Calmly rushing inside the house- she dared not wake them up- she unlocked the kitchen cupboard beneath the cutlery drawer and retrieved a small basket which instantly made her cough. It was dusty and old and a tad too tiny for a family of three. But it was all she had. So she dusted it and spread her favourite woolen mat that she had once knit for she didn’t know whom back then. It was a blend of threads of different hues; there was a pleasant shade of purple, beach blue and baby pink. The borders were green and torn. It was lovely and all she had.

It is never gentle to wake one up as he slumbers. After pondering over the thought for a momentary lull, she settled the basket close to them beside her periwinkles which would provide a perfect shade from the afternoon sun. She waited and found herself silently wishing for them to climb up to her snug spot of affection. A peculiar feeling moved in her bosom when the white one woke up, started pecking at the edge of the basket and after realizing it was nothing to eat, it struggled climbed onto it. Not long had passed before the other two imitated its steps.

With a heart filled with warmth, she looked at them, her gaze growing intent with each blink. They were beautiful. A set of deep blue eyes opened into slits, reminding her of the small marbles she used to play with when she was six. They lazily watched her and soon tugged their owner into a deep sleep. She reveled in the sight like they reveled in the soft blanket. It was all she had but she had brought them home.

LOVE · Nature · Serenity · Solace · WRITING

Something I wrote from the bottom of my heart.

There are two ways in which we breathe.


Come to think of it, I have been punctuating my breathing with prolonged sighs very often now.


I’m not sure how the rest do it.


But this morning was different. It was a sigh that one heaves and gains inner solace. I have neglected my blog for the past month not because I didn’t have anything to write about. But because  it was exactly the opposite. Ever experienced a feeling when your heart is full of words but it holds them back?



Here’s one of the views from where I stood. Suffice to say, there was beauty but no one to admire it.



I unlocked my balcony door, and went out under the morning sunshine. A raw chill hit my face and my body reveled in the generosity offered by the wind. Any word that I use right now would be an understatement of what I felt this morning. Thus, it felt good. And after almost a month I felt like writing. That too, for myself. I just came up with a crazy quote and I wish to share it with you:



Do anything for others but writing

 

 I am not quite sure of how you might find this but I guess I will treasure these words for they will bring back blissful memories in years to come. Bliss that I never knew existed until this morning. And trust me, it didn’t take much to realize how wonderful was the world after all; just a moment of isolation from the devil incarnate and it took almost a second for every instinct in me to give in and rest against the serenity life offered. May it be in the morning brightness or the lemon that I sliced for my morning tea- not a perfect slice though. And this is where my point enters the picture. An imperfect slice of lemon had so much to offer me that I did not have a heart to turn it down. Just as our imperfect lives have endless beauty to offer us but we always manage to find that one nerve that turns everything good down!

So for a change you might want to switch your morning tea with something else. Ever tried cinnamon tea? Oh and cinnamon tea and a good book-ah! Never turn that down!

Good morning, everyone. ❤