It rained today.

It wasn’t a half-hearted, wishy-washy kind of rain. It didn’t seem as if it were reluctantly tethering at the edge of a colossal indecision wondering whether to let go or not- then deciding not to, after all. Today’s rain didn’t remind one of a parsimonious millionaire jealously hoarding his wealth, giving out a few coins while every bit of him screamed in resentment.

After over two weeks of soul-crushing humidity and intolerable temperatures, it rained heavily today.

There was no restraint about the rain. It threw it’s heart over the fence without hesitation, knowing its body would have no option but to follow. There was no holding back; there was no parsimonious hoarding. Today when it rained, it simply RAINED. All stops pulled, so to speak. It is still raining, as I write.

If we come from the water, I conclude that we come from different kinds of it. I will meet a person and in his eyes see an ocean, deep and never ending; then I will meet another person and feel as though I have stepped into a shallow puddle on the street, there is nothing in it. Or maybe some of us come from the water, and some of us come from somewhere else; then it’s all a matter of finding those who are the same as us.

~ C. Joybell C.

You know how you wake up every morning scanning the sky eagerly wishing to see dark, fat clouds swollen with rain? Day after day when you see naught but some pale, smoky wisps that haven’t the gumption to hold a teaspoon of water in them, your heart breaks. You sigh and prepare for another crushing day that makes you breathless- so heavy is the air.

After enduring an eternity of such daily betrayals, you decide not to hope for rain anymore.

“Oh, it thinks I can’t live without it, does it? Ha! I don’t care a fig for it! Now even if it rains, I’ll just ignore it. Who does it think it is!? It shall never matter to me now. Let the days be hot. Let them scorch me and sap my vitality with their laden, tepid air that makes me feel as if I were breathing in lava. I couldn’t care less about the whole thing. Bah!”

You stop scanning the skies every morning- while surreptitiously keeping an eye out for them. You pretend as if the heat and humidity were not bothering you at all. You are more than usually cheerful and your cheer as genuine as tinsel. You march on, heedless. You are pleased at how well you’ve managed the situation. You are impressed by your own strong-will. You said you won’t let it matter and by gawd you’ve done it! Wooo hoooo!

Which might have worked fine, but for a tiny snag. Imagine this-

Lunch is just about to get ready. You’ve been toiling in the kitchen (pretending it isn’t stifling hot). While the dishes get cooked, you step out of the kitchen into the spacious veranda for a breath of marginally cooler air. You open the door leading from the kitchen to the (hopefully) cool air without. You step into another world… or so it seems.

Without so much as a warning whisper, huge charcoal clouds had swum silently across the barren skies, hanging ponderously low. While you were struggling to breathe in the torrid air of the kitchen, wiping your dripping brow on already sodden sleeves, the stage was being set to take your breath away.

You open the door to witness a veritable feast in progress. You gasp in shock, too surprised to hitch your pretended indifference into place. The rain, pounded to fine mist, floats up your nostrils. One whiff and you’re drunk; you’re undone, alas!

You see before you a stunning spectacle. Big, fat drops of cold water are pelting down; chasing, sliding, bumping over each other in their eagerness to come first. The rain slants into the veranda intimately, its floor wet with roiling pools of rain-water.

In one drop of water are found all the secrets of all the oceans; in one aspect of You are found all the aspects of existence.

~ Kahlil Gibran

For the first time in nearly three decades of being-a-good-example-to-the-kids combined with Oh-how-can-I-do-something-as-childish-as-getting-drenched-in-the-rain with more than a suspicion of  I-don’t-wan-to-catch-a-cold, you walk to that corner of the veranda which allows the rain to stream in straight from the sky above. Mesmerized, you raise your face to that laden sky. The fragrant, cold rain slides down your face, neck and shoulders soaking your clothes (and soul) with bliss.

Your skin feels as a hot girddle on which a few drops of water have been sprinkled. You can almost hear the sizzle. That’s when you go mad.

Having tasted the sweetness, nothing would do but for you to jump into the pool wholly. You fling open the terrace doors over to the front of the house and step out into the deluge, entranced. In seconds you are drenched to the core. The rain washes over you with a completeness you had forgotten. You taste the cool water gratefully with your skin, nose and tongue; experience it with your eyes and ears. You take long gulping breaths, slaking a parched soul.

 You’re drenched; every bit of you.

Picture Mine.
Picture Mine.

Note: As you let the rain slake you, this ghazal plays in your head, on a loop. You wonder what drenches you- the rain within or without.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=elboa44qzT8?rel=0&w=480&h=360]


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18 thoughts on “Rain”

    1. Thank you Vinay! I’m so happy you liked this. Rain is indeed a magical event. For people like us, who live and breath in our head, it is like nectar.

      Seeing you after so long… and first too. 😀

  1. A soul drenching post soaked in the beauty of your words. Yep, love rains as long as I am not in the traffic. 🙂

    1. Alka: Of course. Getting caught in the traffic while it is bucketing somehow kills all the romance of the rain. The poetry is stifled; the music is choked off. Rain can only be enjoyed when you are home… and have nothing important to do.

      Thanks for your generous appreciation. I’m thrilled you liked this! 

  2. Sitting at home, I love the rains. 🙂 First in the North of India where the sondhi smell of land completely overpowers you and leaves you wishing for more. In Mumbai, where within a couple of minutes, you are drenched head to toe despite having an umbrella and in Bangalore where we are used to rains almost throughout the year. Rich, dark clouds that play across the sky. It is sunny one minute and dark and menacing the next. It rains like there is no tomorrow for about half an hour and then it is sunshine and back to business. Ah, rains. Love how they leave my garden green and my greens thriving. Lovely, evocative post, Dags.

    1. Your appreciation is always so fulsome. And you know well how much your words matter to me. Thank you. I am very happy you could connect with this. But then, of course you would. You had to love rain… you just had to. 😀

  3. O how I loved reading this, my friend! Your words soaked me in the purity of the rain, in the rich abundance of the grace that descends from the heavens above to wash away the dirt and slime off our hearts and souls. And that ghazal was just the right cherry on top of the sumptuous soul-sweetening dessert you have served here. Absolutely lovely.
    How do you do it?!

    1. When I finished writing the post, I hadn’t thought of adding the ghazal to it. But just as I was about to publish, I imagined you reading it… and I wanted you to ‘get’ the complete story. Hence the ghazal. 😀 See how you influence me from long-distance?

      Regarding your question, every time I read you, I also wonder how you do it. Such balance, so much clarity in your thoughts! Reading you is by far the most satiating experience I could ever have imagined. It truly is soul food for me.

      Thank you. You make me want to be better. <3

    1. Rain is very personal and magical to some of us. Not everyone is affected by it like we are. My dad, for instance, hates it like anything. And I know many like him.

      I’m so happy you liked this. Thank you for your unstinting words of appreciation! <3

  4. This teased my senses…there is nothing like rains. We had 10 days of heavy rains and then, nothing. Wishing for the mess, the wetness, the damp smell that cling to the clothes, wet clothes drying under the fan….

    1. Isn’t it so strange Janu, rain may inconvenience us terrible but still we’re so delighted when it rains! I think our agricultural roots are so deep in our consciousness that we can’t help being pleased when we see the earth get dressed up in her green bridal finery.

      So happy you could connect with this. Thank you for coming by.

      Sent from my Samsung device

  5. Loved the part about pretending to ignore the rain and that it didn’t matter a whit whether or not it cooled the earth and you 🙂 And no, kids don’t always need their mothers to do the right thing in the sense of being prim and proper, but to be human, with a love for nature and the simple joys daily living brings. You are the perfect mother, Dagny. Wish I could weave such lovely tapestries like you do, all without descending into flowery and exaggerated prose!

    1. Zephyr: And I wish I could write half as well as you can. Your deep grasp of concepts, your broadness of perception lend a depth to your writing which I wish desperately to emulate. But I think it would take time for me to come to where you are today…

      I really think we should be made to attend a course on ‘motherhood’ before we bring a child into the world. It would help both- those are overly careful as well as those who aren’t careful enough. 🙂

      Thank you for your loving words. They feel so warm and cozy! <3

  6. Ah! Such refreshing words, Dags! Makes my heart feel as wonderful as perhaps the parched earth feels when the first drops of magnificent rain hits her surface. That invigorating scent of petrichor. But then again, I’m partial towards rain. Much like I’m partial towards you 🙂

    1. Petrichor… this word will always remind me of your post. It is the first ‘hook’ that took me a willing prisoner to your blog.

      You’re partial towards me? That you are! 😀

      Glad you read this… 😀

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