Love. Rain. Happiness

I love rains.

I have said this time and again.

I cannot stop myself from writing during Monsoon. You could call it Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD).

Lots of people do not get this fetish of mine.

I don't either. :)

But, it is the clean and freshly-washed beauty of the Monsoon that tugs at my heartstrings every time.

Rains to most people means muck and traffic snarl-ups.

To me, rains symbolize love.

The love of the sky for Earth.

His poor, overburdened, dying-under-the-weight-of-humanity lover.

I feel the love of the skies trying to pull up the flagging morale of the Earth.

I feel the balm of love and not the sting of acid when the sky pours.

In the flashes of lightening and noise of thunder, I hear the anger of a lover who is threatening the hell out of the puny humans abusing his love.

I feel the happiness of the watery Earth.

70 parts water and only 30 parts land.

She loves water.

She revels in the rains.

I feel the relief of the trees in my city.

Washed, cleaned and cheerful.

They look happy.

I can see the sheen of their leaves.

I can feel see the green of their life.

It makes my heart soar like a bird.

The little birds, all wet and fluffy, sitting under thick leaves and tin awnings, look in awe.

They understand the love of the skies.

They are probably the only ones to hear the whispers of endearments that the sky bestows on the Earth.

They are the ones that fly fearlessly up to the sky and play there.

Enough said. I love rains. They clean my soul and make me happy.

Copyright: All images used here were clicked by me 

Of Love, Sarees and Rains

There are days when I want to hide and keep quiet. These days are often refreshing. I love the fact that I just read, write, listen to music, start my day with a movie or just be happy on my own...

There are days when the sky is overcast and it speaks to me. The best part is that I do not need to answer back. I just need to listen. Sometimes I just need to close my eyes and feel. The sky is all around me at those times. The space around me is huge. It is blue.

When I think of myself in these moments I see myself in sarees in contrasting hues. Dark red, Magenta, sea Green... I do not have these sarees nor do I wear sarees too often. But, there is an allure in them that's timeless. I seriously believe that sarees make me look better. More woman than any other attire in my wardrobe.

Why am I speaking of sarees when I hardly wear them?

Because, I want to wear them more and more. But, why? Especially, when I know I won't. Not in a hurry at least.

A summer sky is like my mamma's saree hanging from the clothesline. It's blue, breezy and light with hints of fluffy white clouds that tease with false promises of rains that never come.

I love rains.

It was in Bombay that I fell in love with rains.

It fell from the sky in torrents. Like someone was throwing buckets of water down from the sky. I loved getting wet in the rains. It used to be such a liberating experience. The only time a human can feel the sky on skin. I loved the taste of rains. It's feel, soft, fragrant and comforting, like a mother's hug and a sister's arm.

It felt like my mother sending her love through the skies and promises that she'll be there always wherever I go.

...And, it reminded me why I love both, sarees and the rains because they remind me of my mother and of the love that is there in the universe. Both for me are the purest forms of love.

Sappy? I know. But, a truth often is, sappy and blurry. Lines that are etched in memories that wrap around each other and intermingle in our minds.

And I wonder, what will happen when the memories die?