Rains

As I look out the window,

of the metro train,

the journey I am a part of,

rather the sojourn is a part of me.

The monsoon is here alright,

the drops of rain show no mercy

as they pound the roof of my coach.

I sigh at the sight,

my station is a few minutes away.

I know the rains won’t abate

when the train pulls into my stop.

The files in my hand will be drenched,

the office reports I take home daily to read.

Oh and what about the chocolates

I got for my kid?

He sure won’t be happy

if I bring them home

as drenched as it can get.

My trousers, my wallet

everything’ll get wet.

I cursed the rain,

couldn’t you have come a bit later?

And I cursed myself,

for not taking my umbrella to work that morn.

My eyes fell on the girl sitting opposite my seat,

she had this charm in her eyes,

seeing the raindrops fall to ground.

And when I looked at her closely,

I realized it was someone I knew.

It was me who it was.

The only thing different from then

is the clock.

Rains were heaven-sent back in the days.

The first day of the monsoon

vivid in my memories,

as I used to run out of my house to get drenched,

the incessant scolding of my parents unheeded.

The sweet smell of the rain

and the total drenching in her glory

was worth the punishment to come.

Or so, was the thought.

Getting drenched on way back from school,

was a ritual as religious as any other.

There was never a question,

the umbrella tucked in my school bag

by a loving mother.

But the umbrella seldom used to get wet,

the drench was all absorbed by me with glee.

Notebooks and textbooks would get wet,

no, I did not care.

There’d be lollipops in the pocket,

that the raindrops would attempt to dissolve,

but never mind the rains,

the drenched lollipops never tasted any diminished

than their originals.

The train slowed approaching my station,

I awoke from my reverie.

The smile I had on my face

was as close it came to the monsoon glee.

But there still was the rain,

there still was a case for my office files to get wet.

Not to mention the chocolates in my pocket.

As I stepped out of the train doors

into the torrent,

the smile was gone

and all I was doing

was running to save the files and the chocolates

running to save them

from the gift of nature.

And running out the station,

leaving a carefree part of me far behind.