The purple clouds have gathered unobtrusively, yet again. They are in a state of indecision, you know that split second when they are trying to make up their minds, Shall we stay or leave? A group decision- and now they're done, and I'm glad they have decided to stay. Very softly the rain starts. A gentle, merry tinkle against the glass; a slanting stroke, then vertical, and then anyhow. Lightning flashes, thunder growls through the clouds, the wind blows in through the open windows, sending the pamphlets from the Expo flying across the hall. I won't be able to see the reflections of distant aeroplanes on the smooth floor today. Indeed, it is delightful when a plane flies by, high, so high, and you see it as a tiny speck moving across the floor.
While I have been romanticising thus, the rainwater has come in through the open window. Oh, bother! I am not going to get up and close it now. The rain that had fallen so heavily a quarter of an hour ago, wrapping everything in white, is slowing down to a drizzle. The clouds are not quite spent, the thunder and the lightning still linger; probably, the clouds have another appointment to keep.
In the midst of this sublime manifestation of bliss and delight, just one thought creeps in to tone it down and keep me mindful of reality- in an hour, I shall have to be up and start getting ready for work. Patches of blue, very faintly tinged with pink, are becoming visible in the sky. Yes, the clouds are parting, reminding me that the brief meeting has come to an end; the briefer these moments, the sweeter they will be. No tearful goodbyes, no hysterical promises, but just quiet, strong, faithful assurance.