Waves of Stories and Poems

Rain, Rain, Don't go away.

RAIN, RAIN, DON'T GO AWAY,                                                                                                                                                          LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE TO PLAY.

The day promised to be a cold one. It was drizzling now, but it had rained for a large part of the night and thus, the road was in no shortage of puddles waiting to be stepped on. But alas! The road was deserted, but for me. It was a Saturday.

The day was heavily overcast and a slight lightness in the far east, beyond the building tops, was the only sign of dawn. The sun was fighting a losing battle there. 

A warm fire, a good book and a comfy couch-  was all that was needed to complete the day. But alas! Time was short, and I had "promises to keep". And exams to sit "before I sleep", to quote Robert Frost.

The puddles though, they reminded me of days gone by. Of days that seemed a lifetime away. Of days when we were sweet summer children, making paper boats, watching them float, and eventually sink. But alas! The puddles were naked, not a single paper boat to be seen.

It's a complicated thing, rain. Back then, it was praised as life-giving - and still is, outside the hustle and bustle of the cities- but now, here, it... is almost thought of as a nuisance, by many. As something that stalls the monotonous smoothness of 'everyday'. But deep down, deep down, we rejoice. Everybody rejoices, at rain. It's a blessing. A pause.

Through the bus window, I watch, I see a paused world. Everybody - children on their way to classes, officers on their way to their mighty offices, seniors out shopping and getting their papers - alike, forced to take shelter under roofs and little outcrops, as the rain increases its tempo. I see a paused world. I feel the respite it provides to the busy souls shackled to routine. A look of nature, a smell of rain and earth, the feel of the cold, cold wind: all of it, all of it, were gifts. Are gifts.

A sorry world it is, and sad, if people can't take two minutes to feel the feel of rain. A sorry world it is, and sad, when its people don't have the time to show their children the joys of making paper boats and splashing on puddles.

As I return home to a road that is still naked half a day later, I search my bag for rough papers. I come out empty handed. But alas! It didn't matter anyways, for I had forgotten how to make a paper boat!

To what end is this world headed? O Lord, save our souls!

071017

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I made a point to always have rough papers in my bag after that, until the rainy season ended.

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I hope you enjoyed this guys! If you did, GREAT! and don't forget to share it with your friends and family! for what better gift is there, than the gift of a good story? THANKS GUYS!