This article has been submitted by Abhisek Mohanty for the CLATGyan Blog Post Writing Competition. If you think this article is a good read, ‘Like’ this article on Facebook (the button is at the bottom of this piece) or post a comment using the ‘comments’ section below.
The city has been under clouds for the last four days. I have always hated the rains but from now I have begun to love them. As my phone rang yet again, I chose to rather ignore it and went upstairs. I sat there all alone watching the rain splash and listening to the rustling of leaves and the pleasant sound of rain. The cold winds caressed my hair. I had a flashback of what life had been since I decided to take control of it.
The best thing about rains is that they fall equally without prejudice on everyone. Be it someone one a road or in a villa, each one who knows how to rejoice gets the same. Quite unlike us. When we were young, we could blabber anything and no one seemed to mind, these days we speak fluently and effortlessly. Perhaps too many words are a burden and too few a weakness.
Loneliness is a special gift to those who don’t seek it. Looking back on how life has turned to be, I felt anguish at the fact that we have simply lost the ability or rather chosen to forget how to sit quietly and expect nothing. Every game of cricket is preceded by a thought of winning, every exam by a sense of anxiety. A small defeat seems to be an inseparable ally in each victory. Rains make me jealous. They just flurry down without any wish, hope or ambition. And the best thing is that they rise up again!! Expectations and ambitions are boundaries in their own way.
The sky has turned all white; the fiery sun has retreated to a nap. White light feels like a giant flash. I smile. Smile at these small rejoices. Who knows when I will smile again for such precious gifts of nature?
Each drought, each ecstasy, all the moments of togetherness and bitter fights come back to me. The rain has been a friend for the one in love, and also for the one who has loved and lost. The clean drops remind me of clean hearts, a rarity. Like mine, a billion unpolluted hearts beat all over the world. People have learnt the art of telling something and meaning something, of maligning hesitations. But these drops speak of freshness, friends with whom you can cry without being called weak. The rain doesn’t have an ego. I love the rain, even though it’s harsh.
Bringing complete delight to the ears, eyes and the nose (yes, the blessed smell), the rains have touched me. I ran down when mother called, telling that the phone has been ringing. Life is too fast to appreciate rain drops. Despite internet, mobiles and TVs, it feels good to sit alone and watch the rains.