It's raining like it does at home. The sky ripped by lightning and angry thunder bolts. The rain falls in a constant slant of water, a sheet of diaphanous grey. A man sits in his white pickup on the parking lot, headlights and wipers turned on, watching the rain. Other than him and us no one else sees nature in her feral splendor.
I remember monsoons from years ago, rain falling down a flowering jasmine vine, crows getting drenched on the clothesline, Sal leaves glistening brilliant emerald, water coursing in harried rivulets down its gnarled trunk. The smell of tea as Ma pours it out of the pot into delicate bone-china cups. I am of age. We are now friends who can sit together and talk for hours over a cup of tea.
Other memories come from thoughts of tea and rain - their intimate mix. A and I sitting in our living room. The sky is dark and it's pouring outside. I ask him "Can I get you some tea ?" He smiles "No, that would mean five minutes less of your company. I would rather have five more minutes than a cup of tea " Five minutes in three hours count. They remain precious to this day.
R asks me "Which is your favorite season ?" I say "Monsoon" He asks "Why ?" I say "I don't know. Falling rain moves me deeply" He says seriously "You know, I will feel different about rain. Anything you love turns special to me" I laugh. Maybe it rains today where he is and he remembers what he once said to me.
P and I are sharing his umbrella as we walk down the park in rain. Our shoulders brush sending a thrill down to the pit of my stomach like it has suddenly been hollowed. I feel depleted of words for as long as it takes for that sensation to fade. He is quiet too. I realize years later how special and unique that was and how unlike anything I have felt in my older years.
crossings as in traversals, contradictions, counterpoints of the heart though often not..
Subscribe to my Substack: Signals in the Noise
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Finding Passion
I have long believed that the advice about finding your passion (and the rest will magically follow) is too simplistic and does not work for...
-
An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no ma...
-
Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that suc...
-
Published in Serenelight Shiv is fond of saying that he is left where magic realism meets Haiku and remembers having mentioned this to Joie...
No comments:
Post a Comment