I sit at my desk of my high-rise office building and watch the clouds float on a crisp winter day, forming a canopy in the blue sky that reminds me of the tapestry of nature. As I take a deep breath, stretch and relax, as a part of my Pomodoro technique, I study the cloud formation that constantly melts in the mid-morning sun.

One of the clouds resembled a flower. Another one, a fawn. I often assume that the cloud takes the shape of happy and satisfied beings on Earth, at a given moment of time. I often search in the clouds, if I could see my face – up there. But alas, it’s a big no. My search is always in vain. Not that I’am unhappy, but, a certain part of me is more determined to be a happier self, that I often end up in a remorse.

Why? Rupesh, why? I think to myself. Why do I hate myself so much that I would become a nervous wreck.

They say, being grateful allures strength and inner courage. Rightfully yes; and big words they are, but, unless you experience it, I know its baseless.

As I walk home after a busy day, I see an old beggar seeking alms. I often see him, seated at the same spot, with his hands stretched hoping that he receives an added bonus, if he keeps mum and presents a desolate form. I hand him a few spares of loose change. Maybe, he can buy a cup of tea to keep himself warm.

Then, I could hear it. A tiny chatter. It was a clear sound in the silence that was good enough to scare a sparrow to flight. I looked at the source of this sound. His old mouth still had a full set of (yellow) teeth that chattered in the cold. He smiled at me looking embarrassed. A man can never be so miserable, I think.

So, I visited a nearby cloth store and purchased a woolen blanket. As they say, beggars are not choosers, and any gift of this sort is considered a blessing. The old man probably won his bonus.

I covered him with the newly purchased blanket without expecting him to say anything. The man warmed himself and wriggled inside it. We both looked at each other in silence, reminding me that it looked like a scene of an award-winning contemporary art movie (possibly of Satyajit Ray, comes to my mind first or maybe of Aravindan) of the late 90s.

I was pleased and took a deep breath and walked back home.

Up above, in the now evening sky, a solitary cloud took form.

It was me.