It was a sultry evening. I sat with my cuppa of masala chai in front of the calm view. The nature had painted quite a beautiful view. The flight of birds were heading to their destination and some of the birds were neatly perched themselves in midst of the branches of the tall palm trees. The rustling of leaves of the palm trees added a musical delight to my ears. The sun was hitting my balcony and I was bathing in the warmth of it. The distant sound of waves clashing the edges of the cliffs augmented the existing magic. I strained my neck to see the sun entering the horizon. Like Pablo Neruda says, every evening in the balcony of the sea, a fire is born, wings open. The ball of fire was clearly visible and I could imagine the sweat stewed hours that it put the whole day to shine down on us, to illuminate the dark corners of the world and also acting like a silent admirer of green blanket of nature. Music is the most alive of all forms of art and I heard it through the action of birds, waves, and the tiny tots. The gouged lawn in front of our resort was the eye catching element and I could smell the globe of petals withdrawn from the flowers of the trees even from distance. The local folks were rushing to their own place after finishing their daily chores and duties. The cuckoo sitting on the tree was busy cooing and making a sonorous sound. Such was the atmosphere. Fresh, clean and so virgin ready to lose it all for the mankind. The tryst with nature lasted for few more seconds before I heard a loud cry of my girl. I sat my tea on a chair and went inside to pick her up. Bringing her to the balcony, I showed her the true magic of Mother Nature and her kindness.