CHILDHOOD RAINS

Yesterday it rained like hell! Much awaited, much coveted after a long spell of scorching, scalding, scathing, parching sun's wrath, it poured. And what a pour it was! All of a sudden, it was dark as though night had crept in without a prior notice. The tempestuous, floating beauties roared, collided with each other, thundered and melted in a scurry. The aqua angels danced in merriment spluttering silver splinters hither and thither. The wind joined the bandwagon and broke in gustily in a mad symphony swaying the big, old as well as small and young trees in a synchrony of anarchy. The roads were flooded. At one point I thought it would be impossible to go back home. The curtain of rain was so opaque that it prevented visibility even ten steps ahead. The water bristles sashayed and swept past everything and anything. The umbrellas fought a lost battle with the torrential gush. The existence of the planet seemed to be at the mercy of the cascading rains. Monsoon was at last here! It reminded me of my childhood days. The rains of 1970s when the city would remain submerged under the "showering inferno" for days together and a glimpse of sun would be like the blessing of Apollo himself. Last year it hardly rained. And the year previous, rainy season was just a few bouts of miserly drizzles. But this time, rain god was on the rampage. A torrential, turbulent, Bohemian outburst.The water puddles laughed gleefully when feet splashed into them wading way home. The children danced with boundless joy. The dripping bikers stood by under make-shift shelters grinning sheepishly. Driving in this rain was like surfing through an ocean hole. Cars, buses and other vehicles were stranded. However, the route taken by us was cleaner except the lashing torrent. Drenched like a cat I reached home late than usual. But no complaints as the euphoria persisted. The unkempt joy of reliving my childhood days of paper boats, wet swings, wrenching and squeezing clothes plastered to the body in happy wetness, strding through tall , slender blades of glistening grass, scanning one's face on the rain droplets resting on the cheeks of the broad lotus leaves and catching the sprinkles in the crook of soft, little palms.

The childhood rains were back again.