late.

am late. as usual. its not like i leave home late or anything. its just that somehow or the other i am late for office. mebbe its just my distaste for this place. could be. well by now i have almost spent a month here. i have got to know quite a few people and they are by and large nice. well i guess wht i truly dislike is the fact that i have no way out of here. no, im cribbing again and that was not my intention.
well my intion then? just to post a blog. coz i havent done so in a while. bodhi keeps visiting my blog to say "she's ALIVE". well yeah dude i am. barely. but yes alive. alive and bored.
so what's new? the weather actually. its brilliant. today when i left home a storm arose. (storm arose? tht right? oh what the hell!) and the storm was brilliant. grey skies, wind blowing, leaves flying all over the place, the wind picking paper up and making little eddies of paper and rubbish. and people. thats the most brilliant part of a storm. people seem happy. free. carefree even. i love that. in fact, i love almost everything about storms. and then the rain comes. in thick, fat droplets. first a few. just to make you wonder where the water was coming from. then you look up. and sploch! one on your nose, the next on your cheek. one, two, three...a million. all of nature seems caught up in this happy dance. the tree leaves dance, the little multi coloured puddles dance...happy, happy, happy.
then after the rain. soft. wet. a little cold. birds sit on trees, their feathers all a mess. people pass you by, dripping. dripping umbrellas, sighing as they are closed after a good days work. happy. squish-squash go rubber slippers. wet clothes. clinging. water dripping from your hair. happy. a little cold and a lot wet. but happy. happity-happy.
then night falls and darkness gathers. a wet darkness. still semi-drenched. wet sighs. frogs, crickets, insects. everything bonded by a little water. a lot of water.
then? steaming cups of teas. hot pakoras. gorom gorom muri telebhaja. television. good adda. a cosy warmth that can come only after a drenching. draw your knees right up to your chin, sit close to mommy and talk of all the grand things you plan to do. happy.
outside the rain starts again. this time its not playful. this time its not a happy dance. hard and unforgiving, it banishes the rest of humanity from its sight. harder and harder it comes down, drowning streets, roads and the signs of life. you sit inside. warm and cozy. khichuri and alu bhaja safely disposed of. the tv has finally run out of things to show. talk no longer flows. as if afraid of the rain outside, it oozes. slowly. drips. slower...stops. draw the chador tight around you. lights out. everybody softly sinks to sleep. drowsy, you look out the window. the rain drops still dance, freed by the night. the street lamp creates a rainbow. distorted rainbow. splish. splosh.splish.splosh.......