The Daily Orchestra

Friends, here is a piece of personal reflection on the daily orchestra of Sunset. Thanks.

Two things always keep me company as I take my daily evening walks on the terrace: a curious crow or two and a four-storey high Eucalyptus tree that is always happy to see me.

If you are familiar with my routine, you may have noticed that the timings of my evening walks are in sync with the season. As I write on this last day of February, I began my walk at 5.15 pm. This is the height of Spring. As Summer approaches, my walks will begin at 6 pm, and it will advance to 4.30 pm in the peak of Winter.

You may ask the reason for these seesaw changes. The reason is that I am a devotee of Mother Nature in general and Sunsets in particular. My walks are timed to watch this daily show in the sky that the kind Mother arranges for free for all. Pity only a few take out the time to watch it. Maybe I am one of those few. Who knows?

Now, I am an artist by temperament and choice. This is why I am convinced that a super-artist must be up there. For who else but a painter can decide the astonishing progression of colours on the western horizon that blesses my eyes daily?

Initially, the Sun looks pretty yellow as I land on the terrace. Soon it changes to a soft orange-then a vivid orange-then a flaming red – finally, a soft pink as the solar orb disappears into the swirling blue-grey of the horizon.

And wait! What has happened to the western horizon itself? When the sun had set, it was so prim in its blues and greys. But within fifteen minutes of sunset, it appears that the celestial artist wanted to call it a day and has casually emptied His colouring palette all over the sky. As a result, the sky and its wispy clouds stood decked with a marvellous collage of colours. They are so intricate in design that my pen is unequal to the task of describing them!

As the colours fade and darkness creeps in, crows flying long distances back to their nests soothe my eyes. There is something so peaceful about these returning birds, always grouped in twos and threes. A couple of crows are already settled in the big Neem tree on the other side of the terrace.

Next comes the crowning glory of ‘Cuckoo,’ the harbinger of the Spring. It is hidden on the branches of a huge Mango tree at a distance, yet its ethereal melody is audible everywhere. The whole ensemble reminds me of the harmony of an orchestra!

Nourished to the brim, I, too, call it a day and climb down my terrace back to my flat.

Tomorrow evening beckons me, already.
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