Rain Rain Beautiful Rain

We had the most beautiful rain last evening.

2663743316_3204f9dec7_bThe constant drop of bullets from the dark sky brought alive the sound of a million memories filed away in deeper corners of my mind. The Sunday evenings of my childhood were spent together at my Grand ma’s house. In spring and summer, we would sit on the porch, listening to the stories told by my Grand ma from the days gone by.

During rainy days, like this, we would sit inside the main room with a small heater placed inside. The room had a tin-roof top. The steady drumming from the cold pelting rain would drown every other sound except those inside the room. And that sound would be of my Gramma’s voice all covered and framed by the pelting rain just the way background music frames a TV drama or a film.

Inside the shadowy room on rainy day, the mood would often call for ghost stories. And we as little kids would sit quietly through its telling, darting eye balls back and forth in awe, wondering as if some ghost might be attending its own tale.

The yesterday rains also reminded me of the youth spent in the bustling city of Mumbai that is also well-known for its monsoon showers. Mumbai had always been a city of dreams for me and I made some of my best friends there.

The images of the countless times I sat with my best friend at our favorite café overlooking the sea, chatting over cups of coffee with hot chocolate brownies, watching the rains and talking about everything from fashion, fun, food to guys, office gossip, discussing , laughing and ruminating.

And now as I lay, tucked inside the warmth of a blanket, listening to the clatter above, I feel as if no other sound I have ever heard resembles that of  pelting rain on a tin-roof top. Yet I acquire a strong urge to get up, go out, and identify it.

True, the landscape has changed – I’m no more a child in my Gramma’s house, way past the young girl in search of her treasure in a city of dreams but these stories and images still stay with me somewhere bottled up in deep recesses of my mind.

And all it took to un-bottle them up was a sound – a sound I learned long long ago!


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