A new beginning..
It was raining on that day. And it was raining after a long dry spell. The smell of the warm earth washing away its aridness was ecstatic. I was sitting near the window with a coffee in my hand. The power had gone and the sound of thousands of droplets falling was carving a soothing music. I loved rain very much. Back at home, I used to watch it for hours from my easy chair. I saw different patterns of rivulets in making as quickly as it washed away. And harmonic acoustics that played in between sometime made me a conductor, during that time I was the Mozart and I was the Beethoven. Sometimes tiny bits of moisture made its way onto my face, like as if we were playing hide and seek. Years later when I bought my first bike, rain was another experience. Then we played robber and police, from far behind, through my rear view mirror I could see it coming. I would accelerate to beat it and may win for a few streets but eventually it would catch me. And I still remember, it would rain on the day I would have washed my bike, making it all muddy again. Ha ha ha I miss my bike and I miss the rain that made it muddy. But there was time when I hated rain, when I would curse with all the foul words that I knew against it. Those were days when I hated white colour too, on Wednesdays we had this physical training classes where it was compulsory to wear all white – I hated Wednesday too then. Like an uninvited guest, rain would come from the north and make my dress all spoiled, later that day my mother would be bashing me up for no cause of mine. But over the years I developed a relation with the rain which howsoever large umbrella tried to stop, waned into nothingness. And one among the few things I always dream is driving alone along a high Tropical Mountain in the company of a drizzle and stopping near road side shack for having a hot cup of tea. I loved that rain as it always takes me to my utopia.
But somehow the rain in front of me was different, it was not dancing to some tune made in heaven , it was as if pouring down just to wash away the dryness and make the earth ready for next harvest. Not far from my window there is a giant tree and during spring it used to bear beautiful yellow flowers. The tree was so huge that I never thought I could miss it at any time of the day. But in this rain I tried hard to see it, but I couldn’t. Infact I couldn’t see anything beyond five feet.
Maybe it rained for hours, when I woke up my coffee was cold. And not very far I could see that giant tree. But everything had changed; there was freshness which had avoided the place long time ago. Power had come back, I had forgotten to switch of the television and weatherman saying about slight chances of a drizzle that evening.