27 hours

Its 5 A.M.

There is a slight temperate breeze waltzing into my room. I walk out, stand in the corridor.

A small but lush green ground. A rarity in peak summer, brought about by the evening storms in the village.

A cricket pitch on the eastern side. The net is still hanging on it. The sun is a Red ball.

Already the warmth of the rising summer sun can be felt. There is a dampness in the air. I step down onto the grass. Its wet. Dew, you see.

A simple string quartet is playing in my room. The volume is high. As there is no one around whom I can disturb. It's the theme of 'October sky'. A story of one boy who inspired his whole community with his passion for what was considered out of his reach, Rocketry. The boy ended up in the design team of the Space Shuttle.

The music reflects the passion. The tremolos on the violin, the chords on the other strings and the build-up of the cello... All of them channel the protagonist's passion through notations.

It's been 5 years. 5 long years? 5 tumultous years? 5 unforgettable years? 5 joyous years?

It doesn't seem like 5 years. It seems like a lifetime. I don't remember the 16 year old who walked in with nothing more than a slight mix of desire, accomplishment and passion. Neither do I remember any of the latter two emotions. The desire remains. Accomplishment has been dragged into the mud and drained into the gutters. Passion was shot in the head. All it was looking for was a path to attach itself onto. Many were tried. Few were mistakes due to lack of talent. Few were thorny and hence were shunned. Few were blocked viciously. One lapped it up vigorously

5 years have left the 16 year old bereft of passion. The one thing he prided upon. Fool.

He'll live.

I try to remember some incidents. Strands of memory are stoked by nostalgia and flare up into salty drops just to be contained in time. Overwhelming. Now's not the time to think about it. Now's just the time to wonder... 'How?'

Too many thoughts. Too little time.

Its orange now. Quite bright. Can't look at it without squinting. The dew is long gone. It'll be warm soon. Already the birds are in full choral swing.

The last day.

Good Morning, My Village.