Whenever
it rains.....
Even though I am so mad at the rains for flooding the city
and ruining the organized chaos it contains, I still love it to the core. It
brings back such beautiful memories, blemish free. I remember when we were
young the monsoon used to be unerringly punctual, always arriving on the 1st of
June like clockwork. I remember the first day of school, 15th of June, and
everyone used to arrive soaking wet, damaging all the new shoes, uniforms,
books, bags, covers and everything else on the very first day. I remember we
used to lay out our soaking books with their transparent wet page on the floor
at home under the ceiling fan so that they would get dry till the next day
and we may be able to use them.
I met my friend after a month of literally not seeing each other which a rare thing is for us. We decided to go for a walk because the weather was all misty and dreamy and seldom is it so quite than it is right after it rains. It was drizzling a little, very lightly, hardly touching surfaces at all. It was beautiful. I am not going to talk about the freshness of the air, the smell of the soil or the greenness of the leaves or even the patter of raindrops on the window panes, because when a season as divine as monsoon is a part of your life, there are little things of beauty that you take for granted.
I was reading Night train to Lisbon at around 2 am last night and the book is so beautiful I was scared and during one of the more pensive parts when everything was quite as a murder scene and the darkness outside was complete and I felt like I was alone in the world at last and then suddenly it had started raining heavily, the silence destroyed but yet the solitude remained intact. The rain fell heavily and very noisily but still no one woke up and I switched off the lights and came up and sat at the window admiring the wetness being consumed by the ground and already little rivulets forming in the parched ground and then there was the smell of the wet soil, so precious and rare Probably it was the unruly clouds playing mischief that day, but does anything smell as heavenly as the first rain? They should bottle this stuff and sell it.
And there when the wanton clouds were pouring out in their mischief, as I sat in complete darkness on the window sill and I reached out my hand and raindrops kissed my fingertips, there was a poetry in that moment, a longing, I couldn’t stretch too far and could only get my fingertips wet but still the little sprays were brushing my face, the wind too strong to be stopped by our heavy brocade curtains and there in that moment my life was bliss. There are very few moments in my life when I can remember being so happy and so alive, so blissful it was almost like the world didn’t matter and the universe was acknowledging my presence. Thank You God for a wonderful Monsoon ..........I just love it! :)
I met my friend after a month of literally not seeing each other which a rare thing is for us. We decided to go for a walk because the weather was all misty and dreamy and seldom is it so quite than it is right after it rains. It was drizzling a little, very lightly, hardly touching surfaces at all. It was beautiful. I am not going to talk about the freshness of the air, the smell of the soil or the greenness of the leaves or even the patter of raindrops on the window panes, because when a season as divine as monsoon is a part of your life, there are little things of beauty that you take for granted.
I was reading Night train to Lisbon at around 2 am last night and the book is so beautiful I was scared and during one of the more pensive parts when everything was quite as a murder scene and the darkness outside was complete and I felt like I was alone in the world at last and then suddenly it had started raining heavily, the silence destroyed but yet the solitude remained intact. The rain fell heavily and very noisily but still no one woke up and I switched off the lights and came up and sat at the window admiring the wetness being consumed by the ground and already little rivulets forming in the parched ground and then there was the smell of the wet soil, so precious and rare Probably it was the unruly clouds playing mischief that day, but does anything smell as heavenly as the first rain? They should bottle this stuff and sell it.
And there when the wanton clouds were pouring out in their mischief, as I sat in complete darkness on the window sill and I reached out my hand and raindrops kissed my fingertips, there was a poetry in that moment, a longing, I couldn’t stretch too far and could only get my fingertips wet but still the little sprays were brushing my face, the wind too strong to be stopped by our heavy brocade curtains and there in that moment my life was bliss. There are very few moments in my life when I can remember being so happy and so alive, so blissful it was almost like the world didn’t matter and the universe was acknowledging my presence. Thank You God for a wonderful Monsoon ..........I just love it! :)
