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HEAVEN RAINING DOWN...


After a long time, I did something I love so much...walking in the rain...random drops lashing my face dragged me years back...to the muddy road in front of my house, ten minutes walk from the bus stop...

I still remember, every day I used to pray, "Oh God there should be rain on my way back home after school"...'He' (almost) never disappointed me...

and on the way back, on bus I enjoyed many things...drops of water and cool air lashing through the window...indignation, apparent on the faces of the fellow passengers (the ones without an umbrella or a raincoat)...looking out through the windows to assume whether rain will stop when he or she reaches bus stop...satisfaction of the intelligent ones (who took the pain of carrying an umbrella, even though the sky was blue in the morning)...

I used to be among the unfortunate ones (but) waiting eagerly for the stop to come, after which there will be no roof above and the first, second and third (to be frank, all) options being 'to walk on the rain'...the best part of my amusement was to see the fellow "unfortunate " ones trying to minimize their woes of getting wet by running, trying in vein to protect the head with 'what ever' in hand...

I really loved seeing people hurriedly passing through me...I used put my hands in the side pockets of my trouser...walk slowly, feeling the water drops striking "in random"...At times you could have seen smile on my face...I loved to imagine the same "God" handing me over a gazette that can put the world around in slow motion...

The 'climax' of the story used to wait for me at home in the form of "maa", with an indignant face (the same indignation I usually enjoyed during my bus journey).

She used to wait with a dry towel, knowing her sick son is going to get a tough time with his "breaths" at night.

She would dry me with the towel , while shouting at me for not paying heed to her suggestion to take the raincoat with while I left for school...you can also hear her asserting herself that she will not care when I fight with my breaths in the night...I used to be busy looking at the rain water coming down on a line after falling on the waves of the asbestos roofing...I after half an hour or so, you will find me on bed, covered with a blanket, eyes closed, ears busy decoding the rhythm of the music, generated by the rain strokes on the asbestos roof...I used to assert myself, heaven must be something like this....

When I wake up, I used to find Ramesh uncle, our family doctor either feeling my pulse or pushing an anti-histamine injection to get me out of bronchial spasm...

Comments

dwaipayan said…
loved the post!!

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