My dad has recently bought an apartment at the same town where I have been living with my in laws after marriage. The apartment is one of 40 other apartments in the same building which are gradually being occupied by families who, like my dad, had booked them during their construction. Dad’s apartment is unlike all the 39 other apartments in the eight-storey building. It has a large magnificent balcony that resembles a terrace in many ways. Overlooking the balcony is a splendid view of the mighty river Brahmaputra though it is pretty distant from where the building stands.
A panoramic view of the river, a distinct white patch of water, with the spectacular Patkai hills serving as a backdrop, is a breathtaking experience. The living room opens out to the balcony and through the tall sliding glass doors (I prefer calling them French windows except that they are sliding), you can enjoy the view of the majestic dark grey hills and the river softly flowing by. We, in the remotest corner of upper Assam are blessed with frequent showers of rain that pour down in myriad forms – sometimes a slanting torrential shower hitting at the ‘French window’ panes, while at other times, a drizzle enveloping the scenery with white.
At times, rain clouds drifting by, give wings to your thoughts and make your heart flutter. Chunks of them that bear a striking resemblance to gigantic cotton balls gradually take on a greyish hue as more droplets of water accumulate for a brief spell. And sitting by the ‘French windows’, all a writer would need is a pen and a diary or a laptop in these times while a canvas and some colours suffice for an artist. A singer would easily do with a Tambura and soon you would hear them croon some melodious tunes while the supporting chords produced by plucking the strings of the accompanying Tambura would gently mingle with the breeze and be carried aloft afar. A leisurely walk along the balcony offers an amazing experience. I adore this apartment for its unusually large balcony. It seems to set the mood for any occasion and give food for thought. Being a writer, I enjoy every waking moment in this house.
And now, while I am struggling to quicken the keystrokes on my laptop writing pad, I can already hear a subdued thunder signaling the arrival of forthcoming rain. It will shower in a little while as the clouds hovering above beckon me to hasten. I shall run out to the balcony and let the rain drops drench me completely. I call this love…