There is always something very special when the sky cries. Probably the only cry that puts a smile on quite a number of lips. After a gloomy afternoon and a humdrum routine work at office, it always feels great to stare at the sky that is crying but only a little. The red sky with an occasional lightning is an imposter. It has got all the sparkling diamonds in the form of stars. It hides them beneath the clouds and acts as a lonely country boy shedding a tear or two with his guitar sitting in a large field with one or two trees as the only audience. The silent drops of rain over the cheeks take me down the memory lane when I used to enjoy the season's first and the last rain as if they were a blessing in disguise. The sky despises people for not accepting its tears. There is a message in every drop of rain.
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