The Sun played tricks like an unweaned child. Now sticking its face to the mother’s breast and then turning with a jerk towards its father, as if filled, only to resume the feeding by turning back towards its mother the moment it sees his father extending his hand in its direction. An act of defiance at such an early age. The Sun likewise played with the clouds rendering the people befuddled. Should they head out, should they stay back?
Some carried umbrellas, while others discarded it in favour of some memories in case it ever rained.
He is in the bed shuffling his sides. ‘If your right nose is blocked, sleep on your left side and then touch the palate with the tip of your tongue, and vroom, your breathing will return to normal in a minute or two once you do so’, his doctor had said to him when he had presumed that it was his end and had finally decided on paying a visit to some doctor. Since this all began, it always occurs to him that he would run out of breaths first and then die unlike most other natural deaths where you die first and then stop breathing. Life can be grimly mocking to some people.
And now, he is lying on his left side, remembering the doctor’s words, doing as was asked of him, but it doesn’t seem to help especially on the days when the Sun never show up. Between umbrellas and memories, his was a struggle for some decent breaths and uninterrupted sleep.
The image has been downloaded from google.