The culmination of the clouds. Its merger to bring in that sophisticated humidity. A heavy atmosphere but a light breeze that strokes the hair on the skin. The soil grumbles along and makes way for the earthworms. The drooped leaves find tenacity and straighten its spine. The caterpillar swoons itself in a cocoon. The moon rises early and the sun decides to act taciturn. The mist mingles with the mud, and from there arises the scent of petrichore .The smell of rain swivels the nostrils, tingles the toes and gives a sense of warmth from within. The tepid kind to relive all from the sweltering summers. And just like that, all the perspiration turns into precipitation. The radiant day is wrapped by an early evening cloak of thick black clouds. The flood gates open and the heavens start to tear. It has a velvet touch, and it forms beads on a lily pad. It drops in the gentlest way possible and sits in the most poised pose there is. Its tender sound, so soothing to the ear, one can almost lose themselves in reality. Its flushed freshness, that rejuvenates all the morose. The vivacity of the sky with the effervesces of the condensed crystals and its stippled beauty. The grey sky mixed with the late afternoon light of the city, laden and misty like a foggy mirror.
The icy drops danced to the pitter patter tune in harmony. It softly slid from the umbrella and made an effortless patterns on the windows, lined as dots on a banana leaf, and stuck like glue on the waterproof raincoats. It pooled itself to form a puddle. The children jumped into it and so did some adults who still had their inner child. The muddy water splashing everywhere and giving stains on clothes, with a lifetime of memories. The paper that was folded to form a boat, left to sail in the strong currents of the lagoon of the rain. While some stood afloat, the rest had the fate of the titanic. The cars, with its sequential sweeping of the wipers, erased traces of aqua. The radio resonated to that of the settling showers. It runs over the pools of water, creating a quagmire to the sides of the road. A sneeze that it brings , all in good will. The floor starts to get icy, the hairs on the hand perch and the tip of the nose becomes frosty. A thin veil that keeps out the ominous aura. Some collect like beads on a long strand of hair while others feel it pelting and prickling on their skin.
The vapours from the herbal tea collide with the cold fog. It cools down faster than usual. A sip is enough to alleviate the distress of an early monsoon. The croutons float on the soup like a iceberg in an ocean. It brings colour to the pale lips. The drizzle brings a new shade of complexion to the life of the people who throw caution to the wind and dance in rain, twirling and waltzing. For some , it sparks romance, others loneliness, a few others relief, a majority of them sadness , basically every emotion is felt when this weather arrives by some one or the other and blessed by all with a sneeze.
The incessant rain slowly thins. Most places have a power cut and a leak in their roofs by now. The clothes won’t dry anytime soon. The candle flame shows signs of extinguishing. A stone is flung over a pothole puddle with immense velocity as the water on it stagnates. The whole place stagnates. The sound of rain becomes pleasing. 4 in the evening has the looks of 8 after the moon rises. The clouds give away smattering rays of sunshine. No sign of the rainbow, no space for it in the nimbus filled sky. Everyone can finally carry on with their lives, but they call it a day, even though it looks like night. And somewhere in a distant grove, a golden mango ripens and falls to the ground with specs of liquid gold on it.
~SVP
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