Sunday, July 15, 2007

July Rains...

I am writing this as a result of my urge to do anything but study for Term 2 exams … on the other hand I am also writing this as it might not rain tomorrow and I might not feel again what I felt today.

July rains are special. Why else would I (just recovering from a bout of viral fever) venture out at almost midnight, two days before my end-terms, with a borrowed umbrella? Was it just to hear the sound of thunder, smell the fragrance of the wet earth, dip my feet in puddles of rainwater, or feel the cool breeze in my hair? No, those would be true for any rainy day.

In fact April rains are better for that. Kalboishakhi we used to call them as kids in Calcutta. They brought respite in the humid summertime. And the early monsoon rains, in June in Kerala, where the constant cloud cover turns day into night – and we sat indoors waiting for it to stop so we could go out and float our paper boats. There are the rains I don’t like so much as well… winter drizzles in Pilani at near-zero temperatures adding to an already depressing environment. But July rains are different –

During my days at school, like every other Calcutta child, July rains meant an opportunity for a ‘Rainy Day’ holiday… when the school bus wouldn’t come and we could stay home and play. Or when the bus would break down on the way back from school and we would wade, holding hands, (two by two – the teacher would shout) in what was then waist-deep water for us. July Rains were fun. But those memories are now more reminded than remembered. They were taken away sight by sight, sound by sound, smell by smell.

Until all I could relate July Rains was to Waiting, Parting, Losing and You…

Today I sought your voice in the silent, melancholic drone of the raindrops. I looked for your touch in the wind that chilled my limbs. Today I wanted to dissolve again like I did the first day we kissed in the rains – shivering with cold, burning with excitement – not wanting to lose even a single moment of the little time we had together. Today I wanted to cling to you like I did when we walked back in the rain the evening before I left - little did I know the journey would take you away from me forever. Today I wanted to despair like I did when we realised what I had lost and what we could have had, if only you had asked me to stay.

Instead I walked alone. And then I called you and we spoke of our lives and TV programmes. And you reminded me that July rains will come and go and bring their remembrances – but what could not be was not meant to be – because if it had been we would not have had what makes us happiest today. Thank you for giving July rains a whole new meaning.

July rains are special. They mean life goes on…

3 comments:

(buro) indro said...

Tor lekha gulo darun... ei choto boyeshey eto byatha keno? Naaki boro hoye gechish? he he... :)

GJ said...

nice blogs! this one and the one where the punctuality of GoAir is elaborated :)

Anonymous said...

Hi,
I was surfing the net aimlessly (and randomly)...was a bit down after a tiff with my wife...(usual matters, after 2 years of marriage)...and then I came across your blogspace....somehow got hooked onto it...was particularly impressed by the "July Rains.." (written long time back). I am a Bengali, born and brought up outside west bengal, but presently settled in Calcutta (though been out of the country for quite some time now..and now longing to get back home)...but even then, maybe due to my upbringing (the ppl arnd me, the place arnd me, the "shikshya" that I received at home) I feel that in many ways I am more bengali than many other so-called bengalis from Calcutta....and its due to this reason that I could relate and underestand your article well....it brought back lots of memories rushing back....
Just wanted to say thanks for those moments...