This winter, I find myself living for the afternoons. The sun rises from slumber at 10:00 AM, which ties in nicely with how I function during the weekends. There is something divine and out worldly about sitting up in the terrace, with a bowl of crisps and oranges, the smallest cat in the household snuggling at my feet.
The terrace is usually quiet, though there is plenty of music: song-birds at their energetic best, the wind playing with the potted-plants, honeybees buzzing over colourful flowers. As the sun warms my chilled fingers, toes and nose, all seems to be warm, fuzzy and restful in the world.
Through the week, jostling with others in the Delhi Metro, I think about afternoons such as these, when I can sit under the sun and do nothing but focus on the quiet. Evening subsequently descends on the city and the cold becomes too severe to allow any thought other than chicken soup and hot-water bags. However, the prospect of such an afternoon brought to us afresh the next day, creeps in from under the door and delights the heart.
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