Love thy Neighbour?

Yesterday, out of the usual, our doorbell rang around 8.15 PM. That is the time my parents take out to sit with each other in the porch, bringing themselves up-to-date with each other and us. At the sound of the doorbell, all of our eyebrows threatened to challenge the great skies. Who could it be? NOW? I went to the door and a middle-aged lady stood there, beaming at me. Weirder! She asked me the quintessential question everyone in the building seems to be asking these days, "Mummy hai?", and to say the very least, I was relieved. "MOM!".
My mother came back inside with her funny grin saying, "What a weird lady! She's moved in new and wants a get-together at her place to get to know the people around her." Unsocial beings that we all are, we sniggered at her naivety (read: joblessness)!
Introspecting, what's so weird about it anyway? A woman, new to a building, chooses a nice little evening tea party to get familiarized with her neighbours. The world is a small place, sure. But so small? We've stopped caring about everything apart from ourselves, our jobs, our incomes, our families and our lifestyles. Where's time for friends? Sure, we all have a few of them, but are we making new ones? Do we want to? Do we like people who ask us to their homes to get to know us? There's always an initial awkwardness around friends. Does that mean that we stop trying to make new ones? This isn't just about me, my parents or my building. Society, in general, has been reduced to a selfish version of itself. At a reunion, people will be seen comparing stats about their overachieving children, rather than catching up with their friends. Leave your shoulder chips at home. Keep an open mind. One might end up making friends at any phase during one's life. Being ready for it is key. And who knows? Maybe I should go attend that tea party! Make a few new friends.

Change

Each evening these last few days brings with itself a silken glory in the form of rain-drenched clouds. Each evening brings with itself a melancholy I hardly ever feel, otherwise. This beautiful, colourful, soft shine of the unfathomable sky will invariably transform into the darkest of nights. The breeze, the clouds, the purple and orange of the firmament blending in with the sinister green of the Dalma range seem so tender, yet so temporary. Every evening, I sit near my window and will the evening to be with me just a little bit longer. But that's how God ordained it to be. The day always gives way to the night and the night is always much, much longer than the satiny evening and the sunset sky.
But here's the deal. The night too passes. The beautiful Aurora tramples all over the mighty, dark night and paints a soft colour all over the Earth and the Sky. She makes the trees golden in her happy glow and the birds wake up and take note of the cheer that the dawn brings with itself. She rids the world of all the sadness that the night brings with itself. The golden glow of the dawn doesn't bring melancholy, it brings joy. It signifies that the day is upon us. It finishes our trials and tribulations and takes us wherever we want to be. The morning, to me, is hope.
The only thing that's constant in this world though, is change. The Sun, after it's run in the sky, will set and it'll be evening again. The evening darkens into the night and so on. The cycle, irrespective of what we want, will go on. But morning will knock on our door again. So here's what we do. We achieve. We work hard. We prove to ourselves and to the world that nothing knocks us down. We beat the night down to it's knees. And when its morning again, we revel in the glory of the day and enjoy it to the fullest. God knows, after this night is over, it'll be day forever - and it'll be the happiest of days.