Finally it rained.
Whoever reads my blog must wonder if I am the weatherman’s or rather the rain-man’s daughter? For I start writing with rain. My ink-pot definitely dried off in summer. Now when I read what I wrote in the heat, I can honestly claim – it sucks.
Not very long ago a friend pointed out that I should not use the word ‘closet writer’ for myself. It was high time I came out of the closet. I agreed to the thought. Thinking back now I feel I should write my introduction as Seasonal Writer or Rainy Writer for I definitely write when it rains.
It may have something to do with my connection to Dehradun or the fact that I grew up reading Ruskin Bond stories or the blood in my veins has mountain ancestry or all the reasons together. So not really cutting the long story short weather is directly proportional to writing.
We, city dwellers have little to enjoy when it comes to nature, so we wait. We wait for holidays to run to the hills, we wait for rains (albeit the traffic jams and water logging) and we wait for winter (minus the smog). And sometimes when the Weather God is really in a good mood, our wishes do come true even if for a short while. We are happy beings that way.
Droplets on my eyelashes
Droplets from the sky
The chill of the rain
Brushes my skin
Ecstasy, I can’t deny!