I got wet in the rain after at least a year. So it deserves a blog post. Let me be timely for once. I’m disregarding the promised Pondicherry trip post. Or the one on movies that moved me.
The rain was cold and crooked. My umbrella only kept my hair dry. The auto ride was reckless. On empty roads we zipped, cursing SUVs which splashed us.
The lights went out. No problem. Sunlight there was, a bit and the weather was cool. Jaipur poured its heart out. The desert hard heart that had kept rain bottled up for what seemed like years. It was transformed in Calcutta for a few hours. Usually when it rains here, by the time I write “It’s raining” on Facebook, it’s gone.
Looking at rain from a covered house is very different from soaking it in outside. Only then can it permeate your being, cleanse you of daily dust, and be a memory for keeps.
I’m already missing you. Come back soon. Au revoir.
The rain was cold and crooked. My umbrella only kept my hair dry. The auto ride was reckless. On empty roads we zipped, cursing SUVs which splashed us.
The lights went out. No problem. Sunlight there was, a bit and the weather was cool. Jaipur poured its heart out. The desert hard heart that had kept rain bottled up for what seemed like years. It was transformed in Calcutta for a few hours. Usually when it rains here, by the time I write “It’s raining” on Facebook, it’s gone.
Looking at rain from a covered house is very different from soaking it in outside. Only then can it permeate your being, cleanse you of daily dust, and be a memory for keeps.
I’m already missing you. Come back soon. Au revoir.
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