There is so much melancholy filled in scraping of legs of chairs, the way curtains fall gracefully down. Lights have turned off. Waiters are collecting empty bottles from the ground. Urgency is gone. So has gone the promise of upcoming excitement. Upbeat music is making lame attempts to hide languidity of the concluded event. They are taking down banners, winding wires and stacking them up in a corner. Liveliness has snuffed out like a weak firework that lit up the sky a moment ago.
They are cleaning up confetti from stage now.
Oh I love confetti.
I love when it erupts in the air with a blast like a colourful volcano and floats down dramatically.
I also love when a bit of its sparkle falls on my head.
When celebrations are over, I feebly hold on to glory and pick a handful of confetti and hide it in my fist.
That's what I am busy with when everyone gets to the dance floor in the end.
#Afterthought: Dedicated to all of our feeble attempts to hold on to goodness we have felt once and missing better occasions of joy in turn. Confetti represents every beautiful thing that exists in the past and no more reachable. The dance floor represents bigger joys, being missed- of course. :)
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