Somewhere down by the lakeside a soggy crow is looking around, sozzled by the first rains. Couples are running with utmost haste, their hair and umbrellas askew. Trees swing wildly at the first rush of showers and the storm picks up, spraying water at all and sundry.
Many passers-by have taken shelter under the ledges and in the doorsteps of old, calm houses. A young boy peers out from his raincoat, as the heat abates, bringing a cold whistling wind in its wake.
On such days I would sit and watch the sky from my window as it turned black from a murky grey. Curtains would move heralding the coming of a storm. And then the rain would come, accompanied by squeals of joy from the children next door.
These are the scenes, which inspired the meghdootam, telling tales of a long lost love. This is the atmosphere which inspires many a Tagore song, perchance Emono dine taare bhola jaay? (Can one forget her on such a day). Perhaps it is Kolkata which one remembers the most at such times.
I remember a particular day when I had gone down to the house of a dear friend. Next to a cavernous wind-swept highway, was a pretty pool surrounded by many a protective house. The rain felt it lovingly with its fingers creating ripples of varied geometric designs. Later, ale in hand I looked on at this picture the rain god hath drawn. And wondered, how many more rains would I be privileged to witness? And yet this moment was all that would matter till the end.
Now I can only feel the caress of the rain through the panes of a wind-lashed toweras the city beneath me floats. It is at such times that I miss home. Emono dine taare bhola jaay?
(Written by a dear friend)
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