Fiction: A romantic walk to a park nearby

It was a twilit evening. The cool breeze served as harbinger of the forthcoming spring. Flowers were waiting to blossom. They had a tough time under the tyrannical reigns of the winter that had just retired. I was savoring my tea along with the yummy chocolate cookies.

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My only companion was the television set, which I got from my elder brother as a gift when I got a distinction in the very first year of my college. Suddenly, the fragrance of the moistened mud enchanted me to have a look outside.

It had started drizzling. I couldn’t recall to have witnessed a more charming scene for it was an absolutely innocuous drizzle passing across the dim beams of the streetlights. It was as if God’s blessings had taken a tangible form. I could touch the illuminated droplets. I immediately felt an urge to go for a long drive. God’s blessings would accompany me, I was sure.

I picked up my car keys and approached my beloved car. Thanks to its crimson color, it looked like a bunch of fresh cherries ready to be relished. The minuscule droplets slanting from the roof of the car through the windscreen looked like tears of joy trickling down the chubby cheeks of a child who had been waiting for his parents after the tiring school hours. As soon as I opened the front door, I realized that one of the front tyres had got punctured. 'You plan and God laughs’, they say.

A midst my romantic conversations with God, I was caught in a dilemma. Life is hard, I must confess, but the problem was too small to kill the joy. Nevertheless, the predicament had to be solved. It was whether to replace the tyre or to go for a stroll to a nearby park. I preferred the latter. I went inside the home and fetched an umbrella.

Crimson car, pink umbrella, it seemed God wanted me to play with colors which suit flowers best. The umbrella had a girlish feel to it. 'Pink is for girls’, my friends would tell me whenever I would carry this umbrella to college. But the weather was too beautiful to give me time for apprehensions like these. I started strolling.

I had hardly walked a mile when the sprinkle stopped. The liquid blessings had taken a gaseous form. But this form was equally lovable. The breeze caressing the naked parts of my body formed an idyllic scene. I didn’t feel like shutting the umbrella. Pink was for girls and who wouldn’t want a svelte damsel as company in such romanticized environment. Though umbrella got my primary focus, it wasn’t the only thing that was accompanying me. Walking along with me, also, was the rasp of dry leaves being rubbed by my sneakers’ soles. The noise they made sounded like their reassurance to the vacuous branches that the branches would be prospering again.

I must have walked ten more steps when I saw a group of children playing cricket under the lights. Patrons of day and night ODIs (One Day Internationals), they appeared. They had mud smeared all over their clothes. They were fighting for what seemed right to them. ‘Sports, truly, build character’, I announced to myself. The passion with which they were playing, who knows some of them might turn out to be the Sachin Tendulkars and Rahul Dravids of our future cricket team and bring us the coveted World cup. It is not for nothing that people call Spring the 'Season of hope.’

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