Monsoon Tales


monsoonThe clouds roared above the pale flaky building of my apartment and brought a swish of cool breeze which wafted through my room. The trees danced to the rhythm of the wind while the  puerile leaves swayed in excitement. Alas the first drops of heaven fell and cleared a part of the dusty ground.

I stood in silence and watched the drama unfold before my eyes. The drops of rain kept striking the baking ground of the park in front me and the kids playing soccer shouted in elation. The rain kept pouring and pouring. The Monsoon always paints a vivid picture of the starkly contrasting phases of life. It somehow makes you see what age does to us.

While I sipped a cup of aromatic Darjeeling chai, I saw my brother kick the yellow football on the wet green grass which was now a pool of water along with a bunch of his friends, their faces shone in excitement. But the happiness was limited within the rusty iron railing of the park as the path outside was a rather amusing site.

A man of about 40 was completely drenched and was surprisingly putting in a lot of efforts to move towards his scooter, the winds and the rain slowed him. He was cursing the rain  unintermittedly for some unknown reasons. His wife trailed behind him and she was unsuccessfully trying to ‘duck’ the rain. They were not the only adults who were annoyed with the sudden shower.

Maybe the definition of ‘fun’ changes with time (read age). I sipped some more tea and slipped away in a different time. Memories from childhood crystallized before me. The first memory is of a red building, Ah!, my first school. I am little girl with two fountain ponytails and a little paper boat. I am wearing checked skirt and a red striped shirt. I am trying to float this boat in the water that is filled in my school grounds. Suddenly a boy comes from behind and pushes me inside the water. I am all wet with the rain water and tears from my eyes.

source:googleLike a motion picture, the scene zoomed out and I am now standing on the terrace of my grand parents’ house. I am older now, 12 maybe, I am dancing in the rain with my cousins. I am happy, happier than the time when I got my first phone. Life is easy for me as a  12 year old. The scene zoomed out again and now I am in a room with my friends, I am 16.

The clouds rumble outside and that is the clue for all of us to rush outside. We didn’t dance anymore, I am laughing but less, I am more reserved now. But I am having fun. I have good friends and one of them slips while running. I am happy. The scene becomes a blur and now I am in my balcony.

I am 22 and I am inside my house. Not out in the rain, maybe due to lack of company. But I am inside. Life’s started for me and I wont let myself enter that ‘rain-cursing-mode’ for at least the next 50 years. Meanwhile, the clouds are still rumbling, the rain is still pouring.

Chiang-Mai-RainI extend my hand to experience the first shower of the season. As the first few drops impinge on my skin, a sense of joy spreads over me. A kind of exhilaration which I hadn’t experienced for a long time. Maybe the pleasure of life is only in the simple joys like this.

So go on extend your hand and experience that joy. Free & detangle your soul from the constant gibberish that your mind feeds you. Sometimes, just chill.

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6 thoughts on “Monsoon Tales

  1. I agree with most of what you said…. but Age according to me wont matter! Just a thought…

    But your writing skill is amazing…. 🙂

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