rain and nostalgia...........!!!

and it rained............!!!

There are few things in life which bring out the child in everybody. Those wonderful years when you were tender and restless come back to you in bits and pieces. Of course you never remember the event in entirety, only little parts can be recalled.
The rain drops hitting the skin feels the same, it was the same ages ago when I was in Srinagar. The musky smell of fresh rain felt similar, reminding me of childhood. The crows cawed away on the branches of the Chinar tree. Everything felt so familiar.
The clouds rumbled, dark, menacing, brooding in the distance. I remember that day years ago, sitting under a fir tree looking morosely at the gay shades of yellow and red painted on the School gate. The squirrel were busy scurrying here and there without a worry in the world. A gentle breeze blew from the north, carrying the flavour of the meadows and flower valley's far away. That was years ago.
The rains felt the same in Amritsar. I can remember the violent thunderstorms that used to precede the rains. The clouds would rush in from all direction, colliding against each other creatin a huge ruckus. The lights would flash, cutting across the sky follwed by a deafening roar. The doors and windows had to barricaded to prevent the wind from rushing in. This was never enough the wind always found a way to rush in, bringing along huge amount of fine coarse dust. The kind of dust that would choke the life out of you. The only way out would be to find refuge in the bathroom as the moistness would nullify the dust and the grime.
The rain came in little spurts and was instantly soaked by the parched earth. Little puffs of dust rose wherever the rain drops landed. The first rain should always be avoided since it collects all kinds of toxins on its way. But who cares, specially when it felt so nice on the skin. The market was buzzing with activity, the vendors were busy trying to keep the shamiana from falling. The prices were being reduced all around as there were no takers. As I walked past the cremation ground, I could see people in groups standing next to the funeral pyre. The flames lept towards the sky angrily, lashing against the rain. Little images like these have a way of pulling up threads from the past. I remember it was raining when Paa died. The cancer had wasted him and was just skin and bones when he died. I remember sitting in a little hutment alongside my uncle,who had a faraway look in his eyes. The rain just pelted away.
I love rainy season,as it brings forth all kind of memories, some of them are bitter and some are sweet. It is a therapy for the soul, a balm for all the battering taken over the years.there''s something about the rain....it just percolates deep down to the innermost pores of our souls, opening up floodgates of memories, some pleasant, some not so pleasant! nevertheless, rain never fails to mesmerise me....i can watch it spellbound for hours, soaking in the magic! evokes a deep, visceral feeling that''s difficult to express very precisely!!