While I'm typing this, I can hear the rain. It is soothing to enjoy the rain in the comfort of your home while sipping a hot cup of chai, but the story is different if you are stuck in a traffic jam, sitting in a auto rickshaw, amid heavy Monsoon rains.
Lying on the grass, she lazily watched a butterfly hopping from one flower to another. "Each flower of different taste," she wondered. The butterfly was sitting on one flower for a few seconds, only to flutter and sit on some other one. The air was heavy with the scent of wild flowers. Red, white, purple, pink-there was a riot of colors surrounding her. To add to this small heaven, a large blue butterfly was flying like an angel. She smiled at herself. Isn't her life also the same as that of the blue butterfly?