Rain, rain, come again...

It has been raining for the past few days. Drizzling, thumping on the roof, on the windows, on the road and on my windscreen. When I walk it pours over me, soaks my shoes, my coat, drips down my spectacles making it difficult for me to see ahead. It runs down my scalp, my neck and down my back, my wet shirt sticking onto me even more. Sometimes it pours, sometimes it spits; at times it showers and other times it’s a fine mist. The sky is grey, overcast, dull, dark and gloomy. How can someone like weather like this ? Yet I realised that I never hated rain in the past. I wonder if I walked down the wrong path sometime in the course of history that made me grow resentful towards it.

A few days ago, I stood at the backdoor of the house, gazing into the dark night-sky, the rain drops hitting my face. A cold breeze was blowing and it brought with it a freshness that pleased the senses. I felt rejuvenated, a sense of life filled my body and all I wanted to do was step out and get soaked in it, just like I used to do as a child.

The first shower of the season was always eagerly awaited. With it came the strong earthy smell that one loves. As the dry, parched soil quenched its thirst, us children revelled in the downpour. We weren’t interested in the earthy fragrance until much later in life. Little puddles were our primary targets then. What child doesn’t want to splash around in the puddles ! The fun was in splashing water over someone else; the more you splashed, the more fun you had. Heck, I know of some people who would splash around in the bath tub for the same reason !

As I grew older, memories attached themselves to many a rainy day. It didn’t matter whether you were at home sitting on the balcony and ruing the fact that you couldn’t go out or on the streets with shopping bags in your hands and no umbrella. It didn’t matter if you were out on your bike making your way to work or going out with the guys to Sinhgad fort. It didn’t matter if you were late for your lectures, in fact it was always a welcome excuse, just as it was when it flooded the village river and you couldn’t get to school.

Getting wet in the first showers became a ritual. If you hadn’t participated, you stood the risk of being ridiculed. One memorable way I have done so far is to stand on top of the water tank on the roof of our hostel. As a kid, it used to be followed by getting back indoors, drying yourself and trying to avoid your mother’s stern eyes. In college it used to be followed by collecting money from your friends, borrowing a bike and visiting your local snack cart and returning with an arm-full of “kanda bhajji” which we then all shared over glasses of tea, or in my case, water. After some time, we didn’t need the rain, any excuse was acceptable for kanda bhajji  and tea !

Sports never suffered as we grew up. If it wasn’t raining, we played cricket. If it was, we played football and I tried my best not to get muddy stains on my clothes. It was frowned upon (by my mother only) to get freshly laundered clothes dirty as soon as they were taken out of the closet. Wouldn’t it have been great if we could have clothes that cleaned themselves ! later however, I gave up football for something less violent and aggressive – reading and having a nice cup of coffee while you hear the rain beating down heavily all around me.

However my attitude and perception changed in the past few years. It might have to do with the fact that I was in a different country where it pretty much rained all the time. The longer I stayed here, the more I was swayed by the local opinion and attitude. I had begun to hate the rain, to loathe it, to moan its presence and blame it for everything that went wrong or I wasn’t able to do. I lost a few years in the process, years that I could have enjoyed a lot better. Now I kick myself in the backside for making that mistake.

That day as I stood in the rain, I felt like taking a little walk, cleanse my body, mind and soul. I wanted to make up for lost time, collect my thoughts and enjoy the moment; be oblivious to everything else and be able to listen to my inner self, soak in the rain and be a child again. With a smile on my face, I silently resolved that we will be friends once more.

I had made my peace and now I want to enjoy my walk. I pray that it doesn’t stop raining as soon as I step outside.

(photo by Arthur Leipzig)