Standing alone in the balcony, one solitary evening, she watched the tiny raindrops transform magically from a light drizzle to a heavy thunderous downpour. Flying away with the strong winds she was transported many a year back.
As the sun started playing hide and seek, the rickshawallahs and kokilas would usher in the rains in harmony. Rain quenched the thirst of the parched earth and brought relief and joy to everyone. As the sky became overcast with dark menacing clouds, people rushed out to their balconies looking up expectedly. As the wind picked up, birds hurried to return back to their nests and trees started to sway from side to side and this heralded the arrival of pure bliss. Then, with the royal accompaniment of thunder and lighting, when the showers finally arrived, this was nature at its seductive best.
Holding ma’s hand, as the little girl, while returning from school on sweltering summers school days, it was God sending down a gift when it rained. Wrapped beautifully in the mild breeze preceding it, which slowly picked up momentum and converted to a storm, He above made sure she enjoyed it. She would jump over muddy puddles staining the school uniform and white shoes with streaks of brown mud and dirt. Ma would hurry her back home to avoid catching a cold, but she would try and delay it as long as possible and hop around in glee. As soon as she entered home, dida would rush to her with a spotless towel and wrap it around her. A bath in warm water followed, which according to dida would prevent all sorts of sicknesses. Evenings meant making boats out of old newspapers and setting them on sail on puddles and overflowing drains, hoping they’ll reach a stranger in some quaint mysterious land.
The years flew by. She started looking forward to rainy evenings for a variety of reasons. Rain meant the intoxicating smell of the earth afterwards and a dinner of hot khichudi and a variety of fries.
It reminded her of watching the dadas playing football in the mud. It reminded her of walking in the pouring rain holding hands with a childhood lover and the hopes of a “happily ever after”. There were always those little children who’d take off their shirts and run and prance about. Dadu’s big black umbrella finally came to its proper use and not as a walking stick.
Then, there were the periods of heartbreak. Of crying in the rain to camouflage the tears. Eventually the rain washed them away, along with the sorrows. It brought with it the sunny pleasant day, the next morning. It reminded her of those long drives with her better half and sticking her head out of the car enjoying the freshness of the cool drops on her face. She smiled at the thought of her grown up daughter as an infant, fascinated by rain and terrified of thunder.
Rains were beautiful. It took her breath away and made her fall in love with life. All over again. It re affirms her belief in Him above and that he listens to your prayers and sends down these occasional surprises. There was always something so refreshing and romantic about rain. Standing in the balcony feeling the spray of water on her face and letting her hair loose for the wind to play with, she smiled.
Happiness, is rain.
This post, was actually written just about a year back. Back then, I did not have a blog. So today, after the refreshing rains, I was reminded of this. Hope you enjoyed reading it!