Date with a Sunset ...

A winter sun sets splendidly at Kalatop, Himachal Pradesh.

I date the sunset often, on each day if I can, from eight floors up in my office building; leaning on to the railing of an open terrace.

Each day, everyday, one sunset is never quite like another. From a tainted red fireball slowly descending behind a thick veil of clouds, to a splendid orange-yellow ballet dancer spinning around to a halt on the dance floor. On a clear day with no clouds at all, like a shining gold coin being dropped into a piggy bank and on a day of razor thin sheet clouds, like a ripe red apple cut into slices and slowly eaten away.

And just when I'm thinking this would be the most beautiful it can get, I look up and around and get simply awestruck at the ineffable beauty of mere sky above. Sometimes a vast blue sky with little pellets of cloud puffs and rivers of soft wispy white streams, sometimes like a huge garden of slowly billowing monster chameleon flowers changing colors from milky-white to molten yellow to dusky red and sad orange.

And mostly as I enter the terrace with a cupful of black Earl Grey tea, a strong gush of wind on my face slaps me out from the work-day to mutate into a serenading lover smiling stupidly at the sight of his sweetheart. I lean on to the railing, sip a mouthful of black tea; The breeze kisses me, musses my hair up murmuring softly in my ears, and I smile. Oh well, and I almost always end up saying Oh dear, I love you.