There’s this book which I have carried for a week out of a need to finish it badly. In between lunches or dinners, I would read a chapter or two and then another before I sleep. I always chase my own time and I haven’t been effective for a long time. So finally, I got to the last chapter. I was in a plane bound for India. And I looked at my window and found this amazing scene of the sunset. I had to stop and savor the moment. My hand instinctively searched for my camera and clicked the shutter.
Did you ever feel an overflowing of emotion that goes beyond words? And as you overflow, you looked around wishing that maybe, just maybe someone was looking at the same scene and you wanted to share that intimate moment. I glanced at the person beside me. A stranger who was languidly sleeping, his head was about to touch my shoulder. I returned to the scene in my window and the sunset was gone. What remained was a sea of fluffy clouds bathed in gold light.
I returned to the last few pages of the book and on page 342, my eyes caught these lines.
“Sorrow surged then, silently, like water inside him. A formless, transparent sorrow. A sorrow he could touch, yet something that was also far away, out of reach. Pain struck him, as if gouging out his chest, and he could barely breathe.”
raytsbaron 