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 b