The silence of the evening was broken by the pitter-patter of the rain. Not much of a downpour. Just enough to break the silence. My car purred in distaste to be woken up from its Oh! so lovely nap. Trilok Gurtu fought with the wind and the rain and the much-in-need-of-service-car to be heard (one of my speakers was a little whiny).Trilok wished a tree upside down and I imagined one with its roots dangling high and little squirrels running up and down in confusion.
At the lights, I had my head out, sniffing the rain and Hmmmm… Fresh earth.
Earth and rain were lovers, the folklore goes. Rain was banished to the skies by Earth’s strict father, the Sun. Rain, however, was persistent in his love. Every now and again, when the Sun was out of sight, under the cover of clouds, it would come down to meet his beloved. How the passionate lovers rejoiced!
The sun poked its head through the clouds and the rain, caught in its act, sheepishly retired. Another time, my love. Another time.
For a second, I felt like a voyeur caught peeping into the neighbour’s bedroom.
Traffic, much like my mood, was light and it took me less than one song time to reach the university. I enjoy the rain but I loved the minutes after a shower more. There was something tender, soul-stirringly sad about it.
Maybe the folklore is true and the earth does moan the departure of her lover.
