Brilliant ideas flit in and out of my head. Some random tunes. I keep improvising while I stare at this term in notebook which gradually loses all its meaning.
A meaningless wonder; this tune takes shape in my head. What does it remind me of? A rainy day. A downpour which calms down to a drizzle. Raindrops are trickling down the window pane, while I stare fixedly at this one drop, moving painstakingly, while the rest have already raced ahead of it. Impatience. I will it to move faster. COME ON! But no,.the drop follows the cliched slow-and-steady-wins-the-race ideology. All right, I say. I give up. Suit yourself, you pesky little rain drop.
It all fits. The tune. The day. The rain. The dark clouds.
But I notice that the other raindrops that rushed off in a hurry, seem to have disappeared, leaving long, fine trails of water, that end abruptly. Our pesky man is the only one, treading slowly, millimeter by millimeter, enjoying every step.
Was it a race to win? Was there a reward at the end of it? Those raindrops didn’t win a race. They simply hotfooted and vanished at the end of it. No triumph. My favourite raindrop, still trudges slow, breathing in the cool monsoon air and smelling the earth. I get a feeling that it sees me, through it’s invisible eyes and smiles at me. Hakuna Matata.
I seem to be stuck at this point. I don’t want this drop to disappear.
But it’s going to. I can’t stop it.
I seem to be stuck at this point. Should it end with the end of the drop’s journey?
There seems to be some confusion. The word I was staring at comes back into focus.
“Add a few drops of water to the compound..” . Observe the colour change, blah, blah.