On Departure

I will look at everything and everyone as if for the first time, especially the small things that I have grown used to, quite forgetting the magic surrounding them. – Paulo Coelho   It’s dark – 4.27 am to be precise. I can hear the clouds rumble, a soft pitter-patter of the rain fall outside my window. A peacock calls, happy to be alive in this north Indian monsoon. Outside on the road, a few trucks drive by, the sound of wheels ‘whooshing’ through the rain-washed asphalt. I am in bed, eyes shut, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and denial, harsh reality poking me in the ribs: in just…