Friday, July 11, 2014

948

I looked out the window in the pantry. There was no milk in the coffee machine and there was no rain around. The day had just begun and it had already started seeming deficient. It wore on. I finished some work and made a couple of work-calls. I spoke to a client based out of Mumbai. I asked her whether it was raining in Mumbai. She said 'Yes'. She also softly mentioned that even though the city might get flooded, it needed the rain. They'd put up with it.

Rains - even in their outset, bring out a willingness to sweetly surrender to a greater common good.

Somehow the fact that it was raining in Mumbai and not in Pune - it made me feel a little forsaken. I took a break and went back to the coffee machine. The weather was excellent but no rain. I took my coffee and squeezed my eyes shut to pray, really, really, really pray that it please rain today. Please. I remember praying that hard one afternoon in school during a Geography class. I had looked out the window and with every ounce of strength that I had, I had wished for clouds to gather and rain to pour down. It had.

Anyway, the pantry was getting crowded. I left and there was still no rain. A colleague and I decided to go to the terrace for an early lunch and there was the silvery, magical mist in the air. Rain. Gossamer. Shimmery. Angel-whisper rain. Later in the evening, it rained a little harder.

In Hindi, there's a phrase that, translated, means that if you could have wished for anything, you'd have got it. (The context for this is usually when you've wished for something mundane and that has come your way.) The notion is that right about that time, there's some channel that's open between you and whatever vortex that has all kinds of fulfilled wishes that will get sucked in your direction. Today, though, even if I had a full array of whatever I could get after wishing for it, I'd choose this.

I'd choose rain.

Note: Also, perhaps very opportune that my thousandth post is about a day when it rained and my prayers were answered.

2 comments:

sup said...

yeah, no rain makes me feel that thing they call quiet desperation.

what's the Hindi phrase, Mukta?

Anonymous said...

Dekho baarish ho rahi hai... its raining raining raining.