It's a holiday today for Labour Day. It feels good to have a holiday after just one day of work in the week. I did plenty of work yesterday, and I have a lot to finish tomorrow. I often wonder it would be great if we always had a holiday in the middle of a week- maybe two working days and a holiday and two working days and finally the weekend! Actually, we might end up working harder because we have to finish 5 days' work in just 4 days- but that's only my idea and seems like a lonely religion!
I am sipping my cup of tea. It's a bright morning, and still very, very quiet. The world must be lazily waking up. And it's mild. The temparatures have dropped in the last couple of days, with some rain off and on. Otherwise, it has been serverely hot. The summer has come much before its time, and it's going to be long before the monsoons arrive. The heat is unbearable already. All around it's dry, and still, and parched up. Everyone is talking about the weather.
Everyone talks about the weather anyway. They say one of the most common things people around the world talk about is the weather. They talk about it with friends, with neighbours, with co-travellers and even with strangers. They talk about it on the street corners, in their homes, and at their children's schools. They talk about it while buying grocery, while jogging along the park alleys, or while filing their tax returns. They talk about it over brunch, over the long distance calls, and over everything possible. I do too, as I am doing now.
And while I am at it, I must mention, on these summery days, I dream of a retreat to the mountains, camping in the tranquil, soaking in the quiet and spending a low-key life.
I am sipping my cup of tea. It's a bright morning, and still very, very quiet. The world must be lazily waking up. And it's mild. The temparatures have dropped in the last couple of days, with some rain off and on. Otherwise, it has been serverely hot. The summer has come much before its time, and it's going to be long before the monsoons arrive. The heat is unbearable already. All around it's dry, and still, and parched up. Everyone is talking about the weather.
Everyone talks about the weather anyway. They say one of the most common things people around the world talk about is the weather. They talk about it with friends, with neighbours, with co-travellers and even with strangers. They talk about it on the street corners, in their homes, and at their children's schools. They talk about it while buying grocery, while jogging along the park alleys, or while filing their tax returns. They talk about it over brunch, over the long distance calls, and over everything possible. I do too, as I am doing now.
And while I am at it, I must mention, on these summery days, I dream of a retreat to the mountains, camping in the tranquil, soaking in the quiet and spending a low-key life.
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