A Rainy Day

The sky turned a deathly black. At 4 in the afternoon it seemed like midnight. If this were a mystery or thriller, the sky would be the perfect way to begin it. Inside the cooped up, centrally air conditioned office, there’s not much else you can experience anyway, other than marvel at the absolute blackness of the clouds. For a moment, I wanted to grab them and prick them with a pin so they would burst!

I stepped out to the terrace nearby. A crowd stood there. I wriggled my way to the front; felt the wind blow at my top and my hair, drops of rain reaching the covered alcove between the office and the terrace. The drops wanted to fall somewhere, they fell somewhere else, skidding in the wind. A pot lay on its side, its leafless stalk long dead and now battered by the rain. A coconut tree sways in the distance, defying its weight and bowing to the fearsome wind. I clutch the bottom of my top, lest it fly too high. In the midst of all this a little pink flower blossoms, delicate, innocent, beautiful.

The lights go on, throwing their warm yellow light on cream coloured walls, giving them a welcoming glow. The chill wind seems even more welcome.

The earth smells fresh, as though it is beginning anew, giving life to all that it can. The trees seem greener, the undergrowth more lush. There is music in every sound including the cab horns; the rumble of the thunder; the soft music in the distance. I want to sing. I sit in the cab, windows rolled down, humming to myself, at one with the world, a soft smile on my lips.

It is the perfect evening to sit by the window, feeling the wind and the water, a cup of hot coffee in hand, music in the room, blending with nature’s song.

PS: I wrote this yesterday. It could just as well have been today.