My rains...

The rain is most insistent. It will be heard. I sit by my window listening to the raindrops fall where they would. I have varied reactions to the rain – some days I cannot get enough of it and I can dream away watching the rain. Some days, however my spirit is bogged down by the sound of continual downpours. Today is one such day. I need to see the sun out after a period. I need to get out and go for long walks in the evening. I need to see the newly washed greens and smell the delicate perfume of the soil. Having to sit out the evenings at home makes me rather cranky.

I recall my childhood in Kerala (well, part of it anyway) when the monsoons would herald what seemed like endless dreary days. We would have a tough time getting clothes dry or going to school, for the first day of school always marked the first day of the monsoon as well. I remember squelching through muddy roads to get on to overcrowded buses where we were prey to any wandering and probing fingers. I remember being schooled by my more experienced friends about how to use my elbows and rolled-up umbrella or as a last resort, a safety pin in order to deflect the single-minded hands. The last phase of our school commute involved walking beside a busy road and occasionally getting splashed with dirty water sent spurting by over-speeding buses. I did so hate the monsoons.

In college I stayed in a hostel and so the rainy season was less of a bother – we would get wet inevitably on our way to the mess hall and back to class (despite the umbrellas) but we could always find ways to manage. During my engineering college days, the hostel and the college were a lot farther apart and it was also a co-ed institution and getting wet did have a lot more repercussions than I bargained for :-). Looking back on the endless monsoon days I truly wonder how it was that all of us adjusted so easily. We would even get out on the terrace in the pouring rain and dance just for the sheer joy of being young and together. Now I am so picky that a drizzle will send me scurrying back indoors. I feel that the change is not merely due to an increase in inflexibility – rather its more to do with the loss of a carefree spirit. One day I might yet feel young enough to dance in the rain again ...

Elusive sleep ...

The hours pass slowly but then the hours of pre-dawn pass slowly for anyone who cannot sleep. I lie on my side trying to close my eyes and shut down my chattering mind. All that I do during the day to avoid thinking really doesn’t work in the dark. But then I am used to this lack of sleep – what I find difficult to cope with is the fact that the number of worries that plague me seem to be growing and not diminishing.

I am not a passive acceptor of this entire scenario though I am guilty of worrying more than can be good for me. I have embarked on a process of self-discovery in the hopes that some inner core will give me the strength to simply get through some days. I have often wondered whether having an escape valve of sorts would help. If I had but two days to be just about anything, to do just about anything with no lines drawn and no one to look over my shoulder even metaphorically, would I feel free? What would I do given the freedom to simply be? Knowing my routine-bound self, I would probably read a book and not go over to the wild side but the idea that absolute freedom, at least for a little while, now and again, might be in my power opens up possibilities I have never considered.

The problems ahead do not faze me as much as the feeling of being tied down permanently by responsibilities that no other can share. I have wonderful friends who sympathize – some even have a considerable degree of empathy. I have siblings who are ever ready to reassure. I have a spouse who is wholly involved with the family. Despite this, there are days when no one else can do what I must or even feel what I do – it is a universal truth no doubt and not something that is exclusive to me. Everyone has problems and mine are as ordinary to others as theirs are to me – all I want is the power to distance myself from them once in a while so that the pain can ebb and flow instead of throb heavily every moment. That is not too much to dream of I think. When I was a little girl, I had lofty dreams and plenty of sleep – now even my dreams do not have the power to fly and sleep is as elusive as a good cup of tea in Bangalore ;-)