Like a typical Aries one day I was returning after experiencing something practically life altering (to someone else it would be lunacy not path breaking), I decided to take a chance and get wet in the rain. My God it was a scary experience. So much for new experiences. It’s so not true what they show in movies. It’s the opposite. And highly impractical might I add.
It was humid, the clouds were mongering and I was waiting for the bus for what seemed like an eternity. I was so busy writing I missed two buses. I people watched when I felt tired and fatigued (Man watching is the term). Finally got on one when I waved my hands madly and the bus that was moving away screeched to a halt.
Getting wet in the rains is overrated. (God help me if I am ever stuck in the Mumbai rains.) You soil your clothes and shoes, which take forever to dry if you live in a humid place like I do. Cleaning them is a task, and then there is the imminent threat of a raging cold. I felt nothing but tedious. Where was the magic I wondered, when I was dragging myself home.
Rainy season is the least favourite of all the seasons though I love the accompaniments – clouds being formed, the colour of skies darkening and the streaks of lightning, sudden and unexpected. The dreamer in me cannot ever reconcile with the realist that shows up from time to time.
I will never say rain demands to be felt. Big fat drops hitting you with all their might making the short stretch leading home seem like an long endless road. Shudder!
People were staring at me, the brave girl walking with her head held high unprotected from the torrential downpour (which the drizzle was slowly turning into). I suppose they were staring because a dupatta was wound around my neck like a snake coiled snugly on a fat tree branch; they wondered why wasn’t I using to shield my head. My hair was in a ponytail and it was dripping wet. Because I was a fool that’s why. They would have considered me a mad woman had they known that I was carrying an umbrella too in my purse-bag (for the lack of a better word). In time on this planet this was the first time I had deliberately chosen to get wet. So I had to do it right, you see. Demented you scream inwardly. Now you have a (concrete?) reason for my reckless behaviour.
You should have seen the faces of my family members seeing my sopping wet self. They were horrified and scared. This was unreal to them. What if I get p-neumonia (as my cousin says in spite of telling her umpteen times that the”p” is silent).
My (smart)phone was saved even though it had gotten wet and I didn’t have to pay a price for my nonsensical behaviour. Just because one good life changing event happened who says another good thing will follow it in the same day! Give your Aries thinking a rest, will you.
I thought back to the time I was caught in an unexpected downpour in a city not my own but another human shielding me. India Gate. One umbrella. Two people. Classmates on the verge of becoming friends or perhaps already friends. We shivered as it rained like there was no tomorrow and stood missing one bus after another. In the horrifying experience that we had we skipped real lunch because it would be too much hassle, skipped all other places on our itinerary and went to our respective rooms which lacked the real warmth and comfort of our homes.
Wet clothes. Wet sandals. The feeling of feverishness and having nothing warm to drink or eat. Dear beloved home of my dreams and fantasies. In travelling I found that I was more homesick than I ever realized and it would definitely stand in the way of my being independent. The struggle is real.
Autumn has been a washout thanks to the rain and so was Diwali. And currently we are looking forward to (just an expression) four days worth of rain which began yesterday. I knew the forecast hence rushed to the book fair and scooted home with my precious books as soon as the drops began to fall on me, before a proper drizzle started.
What do you when you are rained off? Where do you seek comfort?