Searching for rain

When was the last time you enjoyed the rain? I am not talking of the passive enjoyment of sitting in an air conditioned office watching the droplets make curious patterns on your window pane. Bloody artistic showoff, you. Nor am I talking of that one time you actually switched off your laptop or PC or phone or tablet or ipod or whatever electronic life support system you are addicted to.

If you have any more brains than Moose did you would have guessed that I am speaking of when you went all out and just played in the rain till you got drenched and then you played some more. When even the peacock would feel ashamed of your antics and its own laziness. When dance as if no one was watching ceased to be just a metaphor for you. And you were so enjoying yourself that the thought of catching a cold was dismissed as Federer dismisses a backhand. With disdain.

Well, I did, recently. We clogged the drains, let the water collect on the terrace and splashed more water than Newman jumping into the pool would. We threw all sorts of garbage at each other and then let the rain wash it away. The rain came and went and came again. And again. And we still played on. The kids had a board exam the next day. But we just didn’t care. Such freedom. And so lightly we wore it. 

Jumping, shouting, running, hiding, laughing, cursing, kicking, scheming, we even managed to rouse the neighbors from their stupor and made them come out. Conscious at first, they soon joined in, albeit witihn their verandahs and terraces. Soon the silent stretch of bungalows was echoing with shouts all around. Of children from delight. Of parents from anxiety. It was as if a spell had been lifted with the advent of the rains and the three little, and one huge, miscreants I was living with. Two hours this tamasha went on for. Cursing the sun every time he made an appearance and shouting with delight when he ran back behind the clouds, no doubt scared of the ruckus we were making.

The majestic Chaukhamba overlooking the Deoriyatal
The majestic Chaukhamba overlooking the Deoriyatal
Oh, and I learnt some new Telugu words that day. You know which kind don’t you Tingling?

It has been more than a month since then. But I still can’t forget that evening. There have been other such days too, thankfully. That one time when I was caught in a hailstorm while trekking up from Sari village to the unmatchable Deoriyatal – the talab where the Yaksh from the Mahabharat resides – is fresh in my mind. So is the evening when we played footy in the NSIT lawns, all drenched, and my spectacles making me unable to see anything at all. But too few these have been, too few.

I love rains. I love kids. I love the mountains. Wish my life could revolve around just those. And books :-)

PS: That evening with Horny in front of the library overlooking the LKP also comes to mind. Some evenings in the balcony with Chichora too. And the next set of rains with Bits and Jerry in HEC. Miss all you guys! Desperately.


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