To the tip of the end. 

Kanyakumari … we went there just to welcome the sun. A very mystical place, thick with history. 
That morning, we woke up to the alarm and rushed to the beach- with just clean teeth and mobiles with cameras. I was hoping it would be a quiet place with less people. While we reached there, it was just the opposite. Kids…sadhus… old people … youngsters.. the place was looking like a fare- and I just couldn’t believe that every single person was there that early morning, just for the sun. He rose everyday, everywhere, didn’t he? No matter what- he rose. People died, suffered, laughed, lived – he still rose. Whether we welcomed him or not, he was there every morning. It just amused me that we were all there in such huge numbers to see the sun on one hand. Like we had never spotted that huge guy around ever before. On the other hand, there were goosebumps on my body and not out of cold. We were a bunch of people … alive and throbbing, gathered on the beach… the salt water lapping against our feet… waiting for the king to light us up. Waiting to give him the grandest welcome. It was as if I was in a concert and the sunrise was the music we were there to listen to. A contrary to all of this- there was no grand welcoming when the sun did rise, eventually. No trumpets were blown, flowers thrown- nothing royal, really. It happened quietly. As it dawned, it dawned upon me too that it’s the same even when the greatest of events happen within you. like my dispeller of darkness had quoted once. 


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