It amazes me how changes in weather patterns affect my state of mind, and overwhelmingly, to say so!
At the end of a day wherein my mood was a dripping graph, almost about to dive into the downbeat quadrants, there was sudden lightning, and there came the rains! We’re in that time of the year where one cannot really trust the meteorological department and nearly everyone around you is fending to a leaky nose; In other words, Mother Nature (Yes, am a feminist :p) is temperamental and hasn’t really made up her mind as to whether the winters have actually ended, or the fog and chilly winds still had some work to do!
From the sixth floor of Vatika Triangle, enclosed in glass panes, the rains are such a beautiful sight. Not only is the sight, the sounds of raindrops pounding on the glass is the sweetest sound to my ears. An almost upsurge of happiness took over and the smile would just not leave my face; the emotion is replicated every single times it begins to pour.
For most people around me, the rains are a nuisance- a mess which ensure they get stuck in traffic and get mucky. To me they are a blessing of sorts! The image in my head is of everything being cleansed, being uncontaminated of all the filth we drag ourselves into, being free of inhibitions – just letting ourselves be. It almost immediately takes me back to my days in school in Muscat, where we’d ask the teacher for a free period when we saw slightly dark coloured clouds; the day when it would rain it would truly be a festival with all of us soaking in whatever little precipitation our desert country would offer us. Come the rains and I go back to the times, in Kolkata, when I would take the tube and then a cycle rickshaw back home from work. On normal days, I would never dream of walking the distance from the metro station, but during the rains, I would roll up my trousers, get my umbrella out, stick in my earplugs (set my ipod to ‘Barso Re’ most often) and walk the entire stretch home! That part of the day, that part of the month, that part of the year, those monsoons were my days! The joys I got out of those walks, splashing down puddles were out of the world.
Pune and Lavale fed my love for the rains to the maximum. The monsoons there were indescribably striking! With water channels flowing down the green mountains, with clouds almost floating into the room as soon as you opened the windows, the unstoppable spirit of the rains and the overcast, the clichéd smell of wet earth – the entire package ensured my love for them grew.
In Delhi/ Gurgaon, the rains weren’t that crazy, mostly I would like to derive that the monsoons feel that they were not wanted here. Almost everyone would crinkle up their noses and display disgust to the rains; hence they don’t stay for longer. I have, however, stayed true to my relationship with them, and walked without an umbrella back from work to my PG, got drenched, caught a cold and still felt ecstatic after!
So, while I was standing in the smoking area at work, which is the only part of the building you can find some fresh air without having to take the elevator downstairs, I saw and heard the lightning flashing, the thunder growling back in response and fat drops of water pouring down, I held my hand out to them and prayed that they would stay forever and bring me a smile on days when I feel nothing else can bring me cheer.
Much love, Cumulonimbus!