That Time of The Year

 

Once again it’s that time of the year when the clouds of darker shades start covering the sky. The smell of newly wet earth fills your senses; birds you never see through the years fill the world around you with their excitement. It’s that time when the six-year-old wants to run away to the neighboring orchards to reclaim his mossy throne in the shadowy world. It’s that time of the year when the teenager wants to go back to his bedroom window where he can spend the lazy afternoon watching the non-stop rain drops. It is that time of the year when newly adult wants to walk under the shared umbrella – shoulder to shoulder – dreaming about the world he wants to create.

 

Monsoon Clouds

It’s been quite some time that I didn’t find any reason to complain about life. Wherever I went, I felt it’s a party arranged by you. The life seems so full that all the pains find no reason for their existence. Standing under the grey canopy – absorbing the ballad of life around – never saw it coming. The gust of wind caught me full on. Lurking behind the unseen dark corners of room, they swept me off. With no apparent reason – it wrings the heart out. Tide after tide of melancholic memories, flashing faces and familiar voices calling. Shakings legs want to give away – head spinning. As if perched on the threshold of a huge time gateway – seeing the past and present swirling together.

Nostalgic Rain

Weary eyes tries to shut down – in its last-ditch effort to break away from all that’s around; a desperate effort to curl inside the shell; frantically trying to hold onto something – someone – in that madness. Then a sudden feeling – a droplet lands on the face – and then another. The waiting skins absorb them and the droplets find their way to the heart. The monsoon kisses assure – the lips slowly curls back. The wind still there, but the accompanying drops of nectar embrace. Sanity claws back – the soaked eyes open to welcome the washed off world.

 

It is that time of the year once again – when it’s hard to reign in the romantic heart. The Eternal Romantic once again rides on his optimism.  It is that time of the year again, when memories run amuck. It is that time of the year again when eyes can only see love around. The soul feels the passion that was and that still is – feels the romance that was and what can never die. It is that time of the year when rain comes dancing back to life.