Getting soaked to the bone in the rains. A pleasant and sordid experience at the same time. On one hand the showers make you all shivery while on the other they tend to relate to your being somehow.But its one of the best seasons of the year,this rainy season.Seems to wash you and your worries away as well....The tiny drop dripping from a rooftop seems to say a lot. It appeared from the boundless skies and to this will it return. Obviously, its glory is not everlasting. Somewhat like us; humans.There's a time when this drizzle appears and with the passing of the season it goes away. It teaches us something, this downpour...To flow on endlessly.To keep on lunging forward.Dissolving the sorrows and pains.Ya, I love getting drenched from head to toe.It seems to provide me with a queer sort of freedom.Guess its a way of nature to equip us with a thing or two.The paper boats we used to make during monsoons as children..... were a treat to the eyes.Don't have a clue where they have floated away.Perhaps to some faraway magic land.But their memories are sweet.Those boats don't exist today.Neither do those little children who expressed great glee in floating them. They have all grown up.But the sizzling rain..... its always the same. With each falling drop comes a flood of memories.Fond and lovely.And somewhere these memories are safely guarded in the heart of a drenched individual.......
Getting soaked to the bone in the rains. A pleasant and sordid experience at the same time. On one hand the showers make you all shivery while on the other they tend to relate to your being somehow.But its one of the best seasons of the year,this rainy season.Seems to wash you and your worries away as well....The tiny drop dripping from a rooftop seems to say a lot. It appeared from the boundless skies and to this will it return. Obviously, its glory is not everlasting. Somewhat like us; humans.There's a time when this drizzle appears and with the passing of the season it goes away. It teaches us something, this downpour...To flow on endlessly.To keep on lunging forward.Dissolving the sorrows and pains.Ya, I love getting drenched from head to toe.It seems to provide me with a queer sort of freedom.Guess its a way of nature to equip us with a thing or two.The paper boats we used to make during monsoons as children..... were a treat to the eyes.Don't have a clue where they have floated away.Perhaps to some faraway magic land.But their memories are sweet.Those boats don't exist today.Neither do those little children who expressed great glee in floating them. They have all grown up.But the sizzling rain..... its always the same. With each falling drop comes a flood of memories.Fond and lovely.And somewhere these memories are safely guarded in the heart of a drenched individual.......
Comments
Unspoken but its dedicated to someone....
I have to tell you that the two men are Indians, if you are an indian too it means for me that rain of india has a magical impact on men, I would be happy to feel that magic on me!
Excellent writing; thank you!
both your blogs are so good..
love-take care
"With each falling drop comes a flood of memories.Fond and lovely."
--very exquisite expression of thoughts..