It is beautiful

It is raining hard today, very hard. It is raining copiously, shedding down unrestrained like a beautiful recitation, seamless and impeccable, splattering in its exquisite splendour. It is falling down like vociferously confessing its love for the earth, like poignantly releasing its pain to the earth. Love and pain have always been conjugates. 

 I like the sound of its heavy patter, the way it douses in its sound all other sounds, the way it deafens your ears and makes you listen to just itself, and nothing else. It is overpowering, it is overwhelming, and it is beautiful.

A rendition it is. Bliss to those who have been straining hard to listen to their own voice, to those who have been floundering in a deluge of a lot of noise.  It closes all your doors and opens one. The one that leads you to yourself; to that untended beauty lurking inside of you, to that beauty that had perhaps got down the lane of oblivion. It holds you in a tight embrace as if devouring you in its passion. It makes you fall in love with yourself.

It trickles down you in various channels. It floats your inarticulate emotions on its surface just like a paper boat floats in rain water gullies. And just like a paper boat’s course it charts the course of those emotions too. It scoops out that lamenting hollowness from your eyes and heart, only to well them with tears. It blends intricately well with the rain of emotions inside of you. It makes you smile and cry at the same time. It amplifies that pain, yet dissolves it too. It is curative and purgatory. It is enigmatic and it is beautiful.  

I was walking back home today in a preamble to such a beautiful weather. This evening I could feel a soft breeze blowing across my face, ruffling my hair, tangling them into locks. This ruffling however, I did not mind. I knew it would rain. I knew it just like I had known some other things. And I felt happy. It felt a perfect prelude to the rain.

This prelude was also an epilogue to last night’s weather; to last night’s rain. It had rained then too, though I had not realized it. How and why? I have no idea. Today’s morning had had a hint of sun with a  breeze wafting through your being. It had been pleasantly lukewarm, it had been comfortable. It had been the kind when you would want to look up at the clarity of the sky and snuggle up to the air around you. The trees had been fresh and moist after a wash like a recently done painting against the canvas of azure sky. You could smell  aroma of the wet earth.

This evening had borrowed most of its from the morning except that it missed the sun, the warmth of which had lingered on for some time before its final eclipse. But it was beautiful; nonetheless. It was beautiful because a retreating beauty has its own appeal.

It was beautiful because it went with a promise to return.

PS: I have been really busy for quite some time which took me more than a month to post something here. I promise to read all the posts as soon as possible. And lastly, and I know I have been extremely late in this, but a happy new year to all you. Thank you for being my wonderful readers. Your comments and encouragement  has only helped me to grow.