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 ...