SVIT: It is the beginning of the monsoon. The sky is overcast with grey clouds. It looks like it's going to rain. I look out of the window of my room. The view hasn't changed at all. I see the same trees that I saw as a child. The houses are the same though their inhabitants have changed. People have come and gone. There have been births and deaths. But the view from the window remains the same. It is strange that I never sit by the window during summers or winters. It is the monsoon that attracts me. The green trees appear irresistible during the monsoon yearning for the rain to cleanse their soul and the houses look surprisingly demure. The view is beautiful. It stirs something deep in my soul. A sense of melancholy mixed with sweet nostalgia sweeps over me. I lose the sense of time when I sit by this window. I do not know if I am 21 or five or 15. I get lost in the overwhelming maze of memories. Sometimes I am a five-year-old who cannot go out to play. I ponder upon the time I would grow up and have all the freedom in the world; to play whenever I want to; to eat whatever I want to; to stay up late at night; to play in the rain; live my life on my own terms. Little did I know then that it was just wishful thinking! Sometimes I am a teenager in love for the first time, staring dreamily out of the window; thinking about walks in parks with the boy of my dreams holding hands. I am again at the window, with tears that resemble the rain outside - tears for the heart broken and for the dreams that are trampled. I sit here when dreams wither. The view never changes. The trees almost whisper to me, "this too shall pass". I stare out of the window and wait for the magic of the monsoon to heal my soul off the wounds inflicted by the cold winter and the harsh summer. I look out of the window to understand the theory of relativity, to grasp the meaning of the phrase `time stands still'. I look out of the window because I know even this shall be gone someday. Until then I look at the grey sky, the dark green trees and the familiar houses and lose myself in the waves of nostalgia.