Reliving with the rain 

I thought the rain was about romance, life, hope, new beginnings….and some more I realise….

It’s a regular day, wake up, slowly as the ginger tea awakens the senses, eyes running over black and white print, staying over some pieces longer.

I close my eyes. Suddenly I hear the sound of hooves, thundering by, on cobblestone paths. I open my eyes with a start. In the middle of a concrete jungle?

Curtains sway revealing glimpses of drops pelting hard with furrowed brows. Ah ! its going to be a rainy day. Do I smile? A huge sigh escapes my ginger flavoured lips.

The black and white print has fallen away as my hands sigh too. My eyes haze over. Slowly the rising mist forms features. They sharpen and colour, especially the eyes. As I stare into those bottomless pits, like hissing steam out come memories. Of a touch, a look shared, a crinkly smile, a fragrance, unsaid words, emotions etched on wrinkles and I fall headlong into this room of remembrances.

Always nostalgia, with a tinge of sadness of everything that was and might never be. Wistfulness steals over every cell of mine. Till I drown head deep in this pool removed from reality, from the present.

I have always wondered why. Is it scientific? Does some wire in my head get connected to something at the sight of rain? Or is it just me. Its this soul stirring song playing like a broken record in my head. Its not gloomy or desolate. The thunder, lightning and stormy clouds have no impact. Its just the grey I think and the clouds forcing the sun into hiding. The sun, which creates a new day, which signifies the present is locked away. Everything looks surreal behind that curtain of infinite droplets, behind that transparent yet chameleon veil. Like a film going back into grey-brown, everything takes on the look of memories, vague, hazy yet not muddled or indistinct.

I love it. I truly relish these moments. I find them infinitely enchanting, capable of captivating my very soul. It makes me want to burst into poetry, poignant and heart rendering. I wish I could inhabit a ballet dancer’s soul. Let graceful arms, slender neck and tippy toes paint my images, recollections in the air. Lifting me high, above the ground, encasing me in a bubble, where all time stops and only echoes are relived.

The beauty that I have experienced, lived, encountered. Events and people who have left a mark, some sooty, some pink, but a mark nevertheless. Which have ignited passions, feelings incredible which refuse to die. Which something as unconnected as the rain can manifest, in pastel form, like a Japanese drawing with strokes and shades.
Like rain, my reminiscences thunder and faint away

To be relived on another heaven opening to sprinkle water day

Where all the gloom and grey will stir the soul

Envelope me in whirls and curls of memories of old

I was born under a lucky star
In a life so short, to have experiences as rich as a Czar

Which will mix with the colours of my remaining existence

Like the rain, enrich all my future tenses….




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