The trickling of the heavens

The incessant rain in Pilani now has finally compelled me to dedicate an article pondering over this amazing new phenomenon. For someone who has spent only a little more than a year at this place, this is quite remarkable and simply beautiful.



We all remember our favourite rainy days, like back in class one when my dad had come to pick me up from school in the lunch hour amidst torrential rains that filled up the cars and autos with at least knee length water. Or when school was cancelled because the roads were waterlogged and we stayed home watching T.V. and devouring on mom’s amazing food. Or more recently lying curled up in bed with some awesome book and looking out of the windows occasionally not being able to help but wonder and be amazed by such breath-taking beauty.

For me, the best part of rain is before it actually pours, when the sky is completely draped with dark clouds, the leaves waver in the soft cool breeze; you know then that something exquisite is about to happen. The pleasing feeling that comes with it is unmatched, it never fails to awe or soothe the mind. I remember spending countless days in my room back home just staring out of the window when it rained. Those memories have a lot to do with rejuvenation.

Here in Pilani, its all the more beautiful. The greenery, the pristine sky and the relentless rain; its nothing short of magical. Even now as I look out of my hostel window I’m simply enamoured by how picturesque it looks, and how pleasing it feels.

There is something about the rains that forces you to forget all else. Something about it, that though it makes your hair curl up like noodles, smudges your kajal all over your eyes and drenches you through and through, it still makes your heart soar.

The romance of rain is perennial and forever endearing. As I look heavenwards once again, I can only be thankful for all that I behold, and all that I feel.

Ramblings and some more.

Somehow no matter how many stories in the form of books or anecdotes from your friends’ lives or even your own imagination you might have heard or thought about, a story involving people in love does not cease to enthral, excite or just please.

It was probably the umpteenth number of rom-coms that my friends and I had watched in our hostel rooms, gushing over those crazy or sometimes just clichéd proposals, never refraining from oohing and aahing at every cute or just dumb dialogue. They were like the breath of the sweet perfumed air over and over again, admittedly not original but beautiful all the same.

People left and right of me seemed to be in love, or at least what they thought was love. Though it was often unbearable, to say the least, it was also extremely endearing. It was all well and good till the last of my friends got committed and there was just nothing to do except to listen to their heart-warming episodes of real-life love sagas. Yes I’m being slightly sarcastic here.

Finally it was nauseating enough to choose studying over hanging out with them. The whole sensation of realising that something might be positively wrong with me had finally hit. There seemed nothing I could do about it; I didn’t have the slightest clue about how these things worked. I mean how you know who you like, or how at all it could be possible for two people to simultaneously fall in love with each other. It was statistically wrong.

But people seemed to defy all logic anyway. Either everyone was weird or it was just me. And I couldn’t possibly think it was me, I mean that was just impossible.