First rain. The drops fall on the windowsill. Little, small bundles of joy. The heat from the Earth rises up in waves and is driven away much as a shepherd gathers his sheep and moves to greener pastures when he knows all the energy in the Earth here has been sapped. The drops hit the iron on the outside of the window and it sizzles lightly. I put my tongue to the iron bar and it tastes of fresh rainwater and old rust – a taste that reminds me of childhood – “the best time of my life. When I close my eyes and think about it, what lies in front of me is an amalgamation of when my mother was still expressive and treated me like a baby. When I ran around and played and never got tired. When I had nothing to worry about. When the world was a nice place” *.
I wonder why is the sound of rain described a ‘pitter-patter’? It never quite sounds like that to me. Unless it’s falling on a plastic roof or iron shed. But then the essence of rain emerges only when it falls down to the brown,dry earth; making the Earth breathe a sigh of relief. First rain is like a meeting of long-lost lovers. The Earth has been yearning for and withering away in the wait for the rain. The drops of rain, once forced to change form and part from the ocean – in which they rested,content,touching the Earth every few moments with gentle waves as if to make sure it’s alright – now turn back into water form in preparation for the special meeting. As they touch, the Earth cannot contain its happiness and becomes aglow with joy. The sky looks freshly scrubbed and the trees seem to be smiling. Everyone is blessed.
As I am thinking, one single raindrop falls just onto the edge of the windowsill. It neither falls nor stays, and for a moment, there is beautiful iridescence visible inside the drop. A mesmerizing rainbow inside a water crystal. It is so pristine,so pure, that I cannot help smiling.
And maybe the world isn’t that bad after all.Children exist.And so does innocence and goodness.
*A friend’s description of childhood