It’s a truth, universally acknowledged that rains make us feel melancholic and oh so gloomy. There is something about the rains which take us back down the memory lane, maybe think about the times that passed by or the ones we loved and perhaps lost. It makes you pick up that pen and brush the dust off that cheap leather diary you got from your father four months ago. It makes you want to write poetry, to pour yourself out in the form of words so that you cease to drown under the ramblings that recuperate inside your mind. It makes you want to share all those feelings with someone, anyone, a piece of paper or with your laptop. I get the feeling to write about things when it rains, the memories of old become somehow fresh like the vibrant green and brown of the soil and the foliage. Inhaling the petrichor gives you a feeling of reliving those moments again. Looking up at the slow pace of those dark clouds remind you how all of it was temporary, and wasn’t actually meant to last forever. Why do I feel like this? I do not know but I am sure that I am not the only one.
It is another truth that rains bring along with them the feeling of lethargy. What wouldn’t I give to just lie under those sheets all day, with a mug of coffee and perhaps some good music or a book and think about life in general, until your mother’s voice reverberates through the entire house, reminding you that it is almost lunchtime and that your father is vehemently pissed off at you. Somehow, you begin to question about life right from the bed itself, why should I get up at all? Until your mother gives you another warning. My parents have always been early risers and thus they expect their children to do the same and both of us (me and my sister) have left no stone unturned to make them feel disappointed regarding this.
Sometimes I think about why the rains make us feel gloomy and lethargic, why this particular weather? Is it because of the tendency in us to have a negative affinity to things that are grey i.e. the clouds and the atmosphere or is it because everything seems unreasonably calm on a rainy day which is somehow in contrast to the chaos we are so used to? Is it because we long for that chaos so much that its absence becomes difficult to accept? A lot of questions but very few answers.
Rainy days are also about samosas and pakoras! Evening tea with pakoras that my father gets from that shop bearing my mother’s name at Tribeni Circle is something that makes that evening special. On other days, my mom detests the samosas and it’s me who usually ends up eating her part. I can safely conclude that rainy days create a certain affinity between my mother and the samosa on the plate. And because of that, on rainy days, father smiles a little more.
Rainy days are also about muddy roads, spoiled sneakers, wet clothes, splashes from potholes as a vehicle passes by, tea from a roadside shop mixed with rainwater, clothes on the clothesline hanging for days, misty windows, cool breezes, that cat who is nowhere to be seen, empty park benches and colourful raincoats. Rainy days are a mixed bag, sometimes a joy for many and sometimes a hopeless despair.
I, for one, always waited in vain to see a rainbow.