I often think of a moment when the droplets of water furrows down the window amidst the lushful greenery on a rainy day and I, sitting near it in my dimly lighted room to embrace the nacent cool air patting on my face. I do not wish for heavy rain, nor I want the drizzle but a sufficient and brisk rainy day in which I can hear the indistinct sound of the uncountable globules, the time it strikes the even and uneven surfaces around me. I wish to scribble some lines on a piece of paper, at such times, mixing the nostalgia and the present in proper proportion. At the same time, I would prefer to visit all the photos to revitalize my memories of the past. I also wish to hold my favourite novel in my hand, preferably the one written by me, without flicking through its pages but glancing the cover page, followed by peeping out of the window with my compassionate eyes.
In this process, I do not wish to be badgered by anyone because it’s the time, I reserved for myself.
P.s- Insufficient illustration through picture!
– Shashank
Pragmatic's Personas 