When rain gives you warmth

In the month of June, when the sky wept and the rain overwhelmed the lands, I was born and thence I fell in love with rains. Every time I hear the rain splatter against the roof, or watch the tiny droplets chase each other down the window glass, my heart warms up with severe nostalgia.

There was a time when my cousins and I would sit on the verandah of our house, watching the rain trickle down the roof tiles and make paper boats with old news papers. The boats once ready to sail would be set off to the never never land which was apparently somewhere down the drains. But all the fun would last only till the thunder strikes along with the fancy lightning and everyone would scream and huddle around in some dark corner of the house. The elders would calm us down saying that its just the sound of battle between Gods and Demons and we have nothing to worry about (Maybe because we weren’t participating).

Rains started to get more fun during school days. Whenever the schools reopened, the roads turned into rivers and all the children were equally thrilled to walk or rather swim their way to school with the uniform pants all rolled up and shoes filled with water. Wet books arrayed on the desks and students uncomfortably seated on the benches like drenched crows, was quite a scene to take in. All the discomfort would be forgotten when the pitter patter on the roof muted the teacher’s voice and they were forced to stop with the boring lessons until the rains subsided.

The ponds and drains overflowed facilitating the fish to visit the lands. It was fun to watch the naughtiest of our sort try to catch tiny colorful fish in their water bottles and take them home with excitement (only to get scolded by their parents when they crossed the threshold of their respective houses).

The skies were all gloomy in the morning and the thick blankets gave comfort in the cold weather. But only after oversleeping for half an hour would one realize that it was still a school day and you have to catch the bus on time. Buzzing around the house like a disturbed bee and grabbing the things that are supposed to be taken to school, we jump into the puddles of water (courtesy of the heavy rains of previous night) and briskly walk to the bus stop. With the rain drizzling lightly on our faces and the wind ruffling the already messy hair, we hug our own torso to combat with the chills. While we wait for the bus to arrive, maybe the clouds have already descended on the land forcing us to open our umbrellas. It was quite a task to hop on to the crowded bus, without getting drenched and trying to close the umbrella at the same time.

With time, the adventures in the rain got more thrilling. The ride on the bicycle through the busy roads with one hand on the brake and the other one balancing an open umbrella was perceived as something heroic till the realization struck me that it isn’t a special skill and everyone around me were already a pro in it. When the ferry I took to the college swayed madly in the downpour and when the bus I took to reach my workplace sped at 60 km/h across the bridge, with the driver screaming from his seat that he cannot see a thing due to the rain fogging the front glass, a few heartbeats were skipped.

The rain, every time it pours down, I sail down the memory streams. The chills run though my skin, but at the same time my heart brims up with warmth.