Sunsets

The different hues of colour changing; gold melting into orange, red, pink and then darkening into the night sky has always filled me with wonder at the earth's beauty but it's a wonder accompanied with sadness. I can't explain the sadness.  Perhaps, it's because the time marks the end of each day. Each new day, a birth and each sunset, a death.

Sunsets in Pakistan were always marked by the sound of the azan. A well sung azan is a soulful sound. A beckoning; answered by some, ignored by others. The sunset is also a beckoning, a time to stop, take stock of the day. For a few moments, the sky lights up, a call - hey look at me and then it's gone. Like life itself, different colours, different shades, a few moments of grace and then, darkness.