A Wild Rainy Night

The previous day, when the rains took the earth by surprise, I found myself walking alone in the streets at 10 O’clock in the night, partially protected by my old and debilitated umbrella .

A good friend of mine was leaving the city so we planned to meet before he left for home. After bidding him a goodbye, I walked my way back to my abode, which was a good 1-kilometer walk. The winds were fierce, and the streets were being swept away with dried leaves, twigs and dust. The gaudy restaurants on either side of the road were being shut down in haste. Some ice-cream parlours still kept their business running with couples pleasuring themselves with late night deserts. Small cigarette shops glowed in their tiny spots waiting for the legitimately addicted customers.

I walked down, road after road. Few drops of water poked on my skin, however, I refused to open my umbrella. The rain took over me and left me with no choice—I finally gave in. Battling the winds, I inclined my umbrella against the slanting rains.

Crossing a two-way road, I reached near the divider to go the other side. The endless stream of headlights bothered me more than the downpour—I waited to cross the road for nearly 10 minutes. Cars and cars vomiting out from one side of the road spoiled the beauty of the wild rainy night—but the weather raged back despising humanity.

I seized the opportunity and made a dash to the other side of the road—my umbrella, trying its best to keep the rain away followed me lazily. I turned towards an empty street—and believe me when I say the scene looked enchanting! 

The mystic sodium lamps gave the heavy rains and the wet roads a tint of orange—the colour of fire, yet it soothed my eyes to see the rainfall I could hear the music in the pitter-patter, the rustling of the winds and the solitude in the darkness of the night. There was not a human around—the only one I saw was a man struggling with his mechanical bike that had refrained from starting. A car flashed its artificial light spoiling the atmosphere for a minute or two. Following the street, I entered the lane from where the building that offered me shelter didn’t stand much far.

The lightening roared announcing of its power and traveled miles across the sky cutting the clouds, bringing the night to life. I looked up and felt the rain falling from high up in heavens gently touch my face. The Ashoka trees, which I had never before noticed standing on the sides of the road, swayed like tall giants, dancing and closing in on the dark sea of sky. The view was dangerously beautiful. I was frightened—not by the rains or the wilderness, but by the vastness of the world around me and the power of nature—which I thought I should be. I removed the curtain of plastic sheet protecting me from the purest form of water and drenched myself with the eternal bliss. Nature’s gift so easily available, yet missed by all.

I reached home and had some hot milk with oats. Soon, my blanket welcomed me in its warmth and I fell asleep to the most peaceful sleep I got in days.

P.S – Well, things didn’t happen as perfectly as in a fairy tale. After reaching home, I enjoyed the downpour once again on the terrace, had a cup of milk, of course, watching the rain. My sleep betrayed me because I checked in on my facebook, whatsApp and, then, youtube. When I finally closed my eyes, I realized I had caught a cold.

Not to Hate

With my previous post about hatred going online, I received few raised eyebrows and pretty good smiles. Nothing better I say. But hey! Last night I discovered something. The story, here it goes.

Our PG’s care-taker is one such fellow in my list of hatreds. Why? Because his eye balls google here and there, sometimes following a girl, like the scent of her perfume. He chit-chats with PG girls, every now and then, talking honey coated, sugary-jaggery and goes sweet and polite. All the girls are happy to have him around at the dinner table. Me and my roommates call that person chantu meaning clever in a bad way.

Yesterday, when I was done with dinner at around 11 pm, I saw him taking the lid off the food, and checking if anything was left to fill his own tummy. No dinning with the cheerful girls tonight? I thought and asked him, “Anna, why are you taking dinner so late?” His reply with a grin, “Oh I had a lot of work today.” Without giving a thought, I just went away to my room and later realizing that the owner of PG had dropped in that evening so mister had to retain his modesty.

Another point that hit my head was that this time I did not get annoyed with him; I just passed from there without bothering for his reply and thinking where he was looking. I realized that hatred is a self inflicted burden. You have to do that whenever you see the trigger clicked, like a drill. But you don’t have to do that, you don’t have to think and you don’t have to act and you will see, the grenade that would burst you, will be useless even when the pin is pulled out. You would have defused it!

To be in control of yourself is to be wise.

But mind you, this is when you are indirectly getting under the showers of acidic rain. If the cloud is right over, you have a right to take out your own umbrella and prevent yourself and may be even poke out googly eyes.

Snakes and Ladders

And so you come to know the pain of breaking up. It makes you so cold so solid so emotionless that you wonder what a stone you have turned into suddenly. After all the trials that you make, to surpass the cloud of confusions, to reach the melted wax of love, you feel you are almost there. But then out of sudden, you realize you have just moved yards behind your goal. You are taken aback, you feel the push on your chest.

 

Thug life! 

You just watch in utter bewilderment as to what just happened.
No no nooo... Not to square 1. Its the feeling of getting bitten by the snake on number 99 before you reach the prime of your game. You feel like a half bitten apple, like a chopped off vegetable. You don't know what to do. Of course you think about the ways to get back but you know all ladders will lead to snakes and all snakes will bring you back to square 1.
Whitewashed look of disbelief hanging from your face and you say," No!"

London bridge is crumbling down crumbling down crumbling down..

Time..Halts! Everything simply stops around you, no matter if a person is even breathing out life, you won't give him CPR because dude , you are in need of it yourself. You are hearing yourself breathe in silence, in dark, at night. 

A pain in chest, not from heart attack but yes from heart attack. You wince , you flinch and a tear trickles down from the corner of your eye onto the pillow below and then another and then another. After a while the weight lifts from your chest.

You are normal, you wear a transparent mask of daily life, carrying out tasks as they come like pulling a break when nearing a speed breaker on the way.
When the night falls again and the chest feels heavy, you dissolve.. into a pool of burning candle, meeting wax and fuming gas. 

                                                                                                        You waste away.

Before I Die

I am not scared of the dark anymore 

I feed on it, as it feeds on my soul 

I am a learner, the surfer of waves

 Of highs and lows, I reckon my ways

 I dance on the fire, sparked by me

 I fool my mind into what it could be

 I become ecstatic and slide away

 As the fools sleep in night

 I celebrate my own day 

I sit by the flowers and miss the bees 

If the nectar be no more, the honey shall cease

 I blow the tendrils, the plant need not stay 

Let the wind blow with it, let it sway 

I kiss the night goodbye 

I welcome the dawn and light 

I see the sun blend with wind 

The cold and rough subside 

I rest with zest in grave

 Until I am no more 

The body I shall leave

 My spirit amuses in galore

More on Death: Death and Deceased