The Rainy Blog

It was like yesterday when we were like all hushed up and untoned and depressed about the lack of rains in this part of the country. The nearby Dooars region having its fair shares of heavy rains and even hailstorms invited our agnostic jealous looks and we often discussed ourselves about how this place has grown out of favour of the Rain-God and how we need our fair shares badly. And it really seems like yesterday.
And the reason is that our prayers have been answered already. Me and she was sitting last night in the warmth of the room, much aware of the voracious rain in the outside and we were discussing about how it can easliy hamper my plans of going back out to my place in that time of the night. And somehow it was possible, better to say, it was made possible. And I wrote eventually about last night’s rain-date in my previous post.
Now am sitting in the dilapitated couch in the room which just overlook the verandah, the verandah which in turn overlooks the road and the neighbourhood. Rains are never sparse outside, showing its intense prowess with a slow blowing breeze as its never-lost companion. I like this form of the rains. I feel like sitting for like eternity looking at the raindrops falling through the sky, only if I could have got a better access to the window in my room. Windows are the windows to peacefulness these days, I realised finally. Doors are not.
The street overlooking the verandah is empty. With an occasional one or two people passing by fast so that they can get to go to the safe shade of their own homes. A rickshaw pulled out of nowhere and covered itself with a polythene much looking like a covered box on wheels. It was too in a hurry, and ought to be so. Just saw a man with his pants pulled up in folds holding the hand of his girl, moving through the rains, incessantly and effortlessly. He can do anything for her, and even in this time, has managed to shade his every selfishness and gave away the only umbrella to her, and guiding her to safety. Love does really bloom in the time of cholera, and now in the time of unnecessary illnesses. Implications are unwanted, and so, such implications are just a matter of discussion though, not to mean anything out of it, actually. The stranger dog has been startingly confused about where to save his little head from the rains, running here and there like the lost soul. The mothers are bringing their sons and daughters back from school. Also the lonely guy seems to be in no haste.
Trees are the happiest rain-enjoyers. Like me. Although am sitting in my room, typing on my blog. And they are in the real world, outside, getting drenched! I though never wish I was a tree. Meaningless blabberings!
Like the tired soldier, the rains are stopping slowly, as if they also have the resposibility of returning back to a home, where someone else are waiting for them and they have got duties to look after. With the rains retiring, the writers also retire. Have heard from the childhood about the exceptional ability of the rains to bring in the mood to creativity. Now I realise not a single word is a misnomer!


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