"Sunlight Across the Sky" is about a sunset I saw during my trip to Havelock Island, Andaman and Nicobar. The colours, the air, and the quiet made it a moment I’ll never forget.
The clouds were pink and orange, brushed with streaks of gold, as if someone had spilled sunlight across the sky. The air was soft but crisp, carrying the faint tang of salt from the sea. Above us, the sky stretched wide, painted in hues that felt almost impossible—pink bleeding into orange, streaks of gold melting into the fading blue. My feet ached from walking, grains of sand clinging to my skin, but I couldn’t look away.
The clouds looked like they had been dipped in light itself, and for a second, everything else faded. In that moment, I wished time could stop. I wished I could stay there, in those pink clouds, breathing in the clean air and letting the calm settle over me. There was something enchanting about it, something that made the thought of returning to the grey, polluted chaos of the city unbearable.
The clean air against my skin felt sweet, almost like a gift—one that I knew wouldn’t last. I wished for time to stop, to hold that moment forever. But time doesn’t listen to the wishes of mere humans. It goes on, indifferent to the weight we give it, carrying us forward whether we’re ready or not. And so it did.
As we drove away, a quiet ache settled in my chest, the kind that comes from leaving something you know you can’t hold onto. I couldn’t keep the sunset forever, no matter how much I wanted to. But that moment stays with me—the way the colours bled into one another, the way the air tasted clean, the way I felt weightless for just a second.
I carry it with me, a reminder that beauty doesn’t need to last to matter.
Written: 2024
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