Now

By Arthit Kumar Dutta

The night was wet. 

An aftermath of a thunderous rain continued.

 Drops that fell from the heavens above, pattered on the tin roofs around. 

The sky still blew around, strong yet soft and swift. 

The streets were deserted, except for a passing by paper boy. 

The streetlights in the corners of the pavements

 created a soothing glow on the reflective wet roads. 

Here I was, yet again. 

Sitting atop the edge of the small cement bridge,

 that connected two markets over the river. 

There would also be stalls of various local food items here and there over the bridge, 

but at this hour all the stalls were equally empty as the aforementioned streets. 

I come to this particular spot often, whenever I’m simply tired of society.

 A break from the everlasting corruption and the complication of life in modern times.

 Nights like these refreshed me; the fresh and cool breeze after a rain,

 filling the void inside my chest.

 I thought to myself, maybe instead of worrying about what I was doing, 

I enjoy the moment at present. 

I let go of the burden I had inside of my head,

 a fragment of what had happened, 

and what shall go on to happen,

 and let myself sink into the comfort 

of what was happening now.

By Arthit Kumar Dutta