I am happy today. The weather here in Ghaziabad has become bearable. I know that, this is no reason to be overly ecstatic. But what has created this sense of jubilation in me, is the fact that the overcast skies and the slight drizzle took me on a trip down the memory lane.
I come from a place, named Kerala. It is a small (one of the smallest) state in India, but blessed with so much geographical diversity that one can find a beach resort in Cochin and travel for 2 hours and find a hill resort in Munnar. Mountains, valleys, lakes and beaches are all thrown in haphazardly into the melee` that is Kerala. It looks as though God was playing a jigsaw puzzle and did not bother to finish it.
Today, the cloudy, overcast weather and the intermittant rain here, reminded me of my school days. I used to cycle to school in the mornings and during the monsoon season used to brave similar kind of weather. The rain gods have their share of merriment in Kerala during monsoon. The sun might be shining early in the morning and the soothing rays of sun might alleviate a certain amount of fear gnawing your heart, but the rain gods have their own definition of fun. One might decide to cycle out without a rain-coat, since the skies are sunny and the birds are chirping and voila, there comes rain puring down and drenching you to your very skin. It is fun for the sole one week after the summer and then one might start cursing the unpredictable rain; I know I did.
Eventhough it has its faults, monsoon has its sunny side too. I remember dancing in the rain without a care in the world while my mother shook her fist at me and warned me to come into the house. "Dont make me come out there Sathyanarayanan", she used to say. She had the habit of using my full name whenever she wanted to make an angry point with me. She felt that she came across as a very ominous person, that way. Little did she know that, it invogorated me to put great efforts into whatever I was doing.
I remember running in the rain to the mango tree, which used to shed its juicy, ripe mangoes when the rain and wind hit it. It was always a race (Yes, at this point you should know that I have two elder sisters, who still takes the concept of sibling rivalry to a whole new level when it comes to the matter of mangoes). The first pick of the mangoes went to the person who reached the tree first. My first initiation to the FCFS algorithm came in this manner.
The rain drops dripping from the leaves, the small puddles of water, the small grass blades sprouting from the earth grateful for the water, the cold yet calming zephyr bearing with it the scent of soil mixed with first rain, all makes me nostalgic. I want to go home where I belong and where I am loved and dance in the rain once again...