from my balcony

''मधुर भावनाओं की सुमधुर नित्य बनाता हूँ हाला,
भरता हूँ इस मधु से अपने अंतर का प्यासा प्याला,
उठा कल्पना के हाथों से स्वयं उसे पी जाता हूँ,
अपने ही में हूँ मैं साकी, पीनेवाला, मधुशाला।।''
-- बच्चन

Looking out of the window, at these mysterious patterns in the sky i could not help realising that the voice was missing... the voice within me. But although at peace with the self, i'm not calm. There is something missing. Something i can not define because it is nothing in particular, but it is missing. All i know, i would have been happier in its presence, but i don't know where to find it.
Am i excited about going to Delhi? Am i thinking about work? What am i searching for? I feel utterly confused... but this phrase from Bachchan sahab's Madhushala defines me at this moment the best.

With a cup of Earl grey in my hand i'm trying to find that lost peace, wish me luck!

Good night