Never do I remember seeing a sky so full of beauty. Nature was at its very best artistic self in Karachi as it smudged clouds in the dusky sky and then streaked it with wisps of delicate violet, orange, blue, green and the rain saturated moments of an ominous grey. I caught the very best of it at sunset, as the full arch of a promising rainbow disappeared into the clouds. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet; the arch held all seven colours within its bow. Truly a magical moment.
Rains are never kind to the people of Karachi, they come with power breakdowns, clogged roads, destruction and even death. But as with all forces of nature there is a wild enigmatic streak that makes it welcome to those like us who look through their rose tinted windows. If only things were stable enough for everyone to see nature with the same spirit. If only.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits.