THE FIRST RAIN

Its the first proper rain this season. I am sitting in my balcony as I write this ( though you will be reading this on a PC). I know that its difficult to get a beautiful view staying in a city but my balcony is different.

I have been sitting before the clouds started pouring down. I was sitting here when the warmth, which is a precursor to the rain, was looming in the atmosphere and till now, when the heavy rain has faded into a drizzle. I can hear the rolling of the tyres from the road, the wet rolling which could tell me of the rain even if I was blind. I just saw an auto-rickshaw without its upper half.

Every now and then, a sharp violent light brightens this paper on which I scribble and roars loudly when I dont look up. Even the lightning demands respect. The rain has stained whole of this paper. Over some stains, I have already written, while the others still await my pen.

When I look above, at the sky, I am amazed. Its coloured in so many different colours. To the right of me, the sky is a light blue and to the left , its in a shade of light grey. It seems as if its not one sky, but two different ones. But I cant make out where they meet each other, or where they separate. Such are the subtleties of this nature.

Even the swaying trees are singing songs of love to the clouds for bringing them the nectar of their lives. They are all talking to each other in joyous rustles, I know this, but still, I cant make out the words. Then, seeing them all in this mood, I also feel content on the inside.

There are no clouds in the sky. Clouds are only there before it rains. After it starts raining, there are no clouds, just the hues of grey and blue.

All this while, I have been listening to songs. Some match the moment, others dont but I love them anyway. I can also listen to the clatter of the windchimes which comes from some distance away in my home. Sometimes, I stand against the corner, to feel the full fury of this wind and the rain. I have been thinking about life and you throughout.

Now and then, I see a bird, a pigeon who has lost its way and its companions on their way back to their home, or maybe it wanted to fly alone and contemplate silently about someone dear. There was a bird at which I kept looking at until it became one with the sky.

The thing that sets me thinking the most is a piece of paper, which is flying in this rain. Its path is not clear, it goes where the wind takes it. The wind is its wings. I ponder about it a lot, where it might have been picked up by the wind? Even though I know nothing about it - who wrote over it, for whom did he/she write it - still it occupies my mind. Maybe it was an empty paper from the ground.

I dont want to get up. I want to sit here forever but I hear the sweet shout of my parents calling out my name and asking me to study as my exams are nearing. They tell me that its been two hours already that I have been sitting and doing nothing. I have no option but to go in my room and ------ sleep, not study. :P

Comments

  1. wow...
    I imagined everything that u wrote here...
    Have to say that the scene was beautiful...

    U write amazing...
    Its such a pleasure to read...

    ReplyDelete
  2. And more pleasurable is to get readers to read and appreciate it. Thanks. I still remember that day. I look for and find beauty quite often.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Reading good piece of writing & then taking a step further by appreciating it is done by those few people who really value what's written...

    Have to admit..I am hooked to ur blog!!!

    ReplyDelete
  4. You are the first stranger to be reading my blog with such interest. Just feel like saying a big THANK YOU.

    ReplyDelete

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