The ground was steaming heat, yet the breeze blew out pleasantries. The sky, deeply ingrained in colours and different hues of the sun, was the object of comfort for that day. The festivity wrapped itself in the atmosphere, and with roaring music, my bones were ticklish enough to make me drip into the moves.
The season that brings many stains onto the sky, Uttarayan. I wobbled around on the roof of my friend's, trying to soak in the exhaustion of the festival and loudness. Mouth full of sweet morsels, hands full of glass strings and fingers bleeding pink. I ran across the roof with kites, sometimes shades of yellow, sometimes red, and many times shades of exhilaration, too alive and clammed up to pay attention to anyone but my glistening eyes of colours. But somebody, from somewhere, adored my tiny moves and how enchanted I was.
.
.
.The first time our eyes were silently greeted,
The day I got the fairy tale I needed.
Colours flying in the sky but some colours I felt in our hearts,
I knew this was the start.
YOU ARE READING
Many Spotlights
Non-FictionIf you are here, you are curious to know the story; maybe the events are true and worthy of being shown on the silver screen. It will be a directory for all young lovers. xoxo