Pitter-Patter Raindrops

I hear thunder, I hear thunder,
Oh! Don't you? Oh, don't you?
Pitter-patter raindrops, pitter-patter raindrops
I'm wet through, so are you.

Are you?

I was. I was blogging about bromance in the evening (what an utterly interesting topic to post about) when my sister who'd returned from school started acting weirdly and started telling me that it rained. I told myself she surely was a fool to have thought that a few drops of drizzling water from the heavens above could actually be rain.

And then, I turned back.

The tree in front of my house was waving ominously. I could see waves of soil as the wind blew them in layers.

Chuck all that. I wouldn't go into the specifics. The jingle I mentioned above I guess that is an essential part of almost everyone who has been through Kindergarten. And as a younger kid than I am today (I still AM a kid) monsoons, to me, as I hope, to any other Indian kid, meant long raincoats; rain-soaked uniforms; umbrellas.

And today, after I don't know how many years, it's perhaps assumed a more important role in life. It's that lifeline we all live by. And it is also a devastating factor when paired with another lifeline that we live by our Indian Suburban Railways. It's come to mean eating bhajiyas at home and looking out of the window as the rain lashes everything it comes in contact with. And lastly, and most importantly, it has come to mean everything that nurtures, everything that gives birth it's come to mean everything that holds love in it, everything that love holds in itself.

To love,

To craving,

And to the unquenchable thirst to love and be loved,

A happy monsoon, to whomsoever it matters! :)