A letter to Beloved

Dear Rain,

You had been hiding from me for quite a while. I looked around, searched every corner for the slightest trace of you. Allowed my heart to run wild at the weakest indication of you coming…the mildest storm; the gurgling thunder, the incipient earthy smell. But you – you kept my heart on a leash, bruising it unfailingly each time. Bumping it over thorny hope. Tantalising. Teasing. Setting the stage for a grand shower, and ending up in a mocking trickle. Why would you do that to a lover so staunch, only your kind will know, some of who are also in my acquaintance.

Like theirs, I know not your reasons. The last I had a meal full of you was in Bokaro. Then came Delhi, dry and unsparing. Merciless and wrathful. Your lack alone keeps the city of my breeding an arm’s length from my heart. It takes moisture, of form and being, to stay in my soul.

But this time, O! beloved, I chased you straight to your roosting place. Goa. And then it dawned upon me – you too had been waiting for me to arrive. At the right place, at the right hour.

The force with which you took me in your arms, lashing at me with all your splendour, throwing open all guards and soaking me straight to the bone…tell me, this unleashing of passion – did it calm you as much as it stilled me?

We both seem to have a thing for unrestrained outpour. We both also house an entire ocean in our hearts – willing to inundate only those grounds with who we are achingly in love. 

Once again, after what seems like ages, I saw you reach out to me with sheer intensity. Without compromise, pretense or promise. You were omnipresent; omnipotent. You woke me each morning with the pitter patter on the roof. A music I had been longing to hear. You greeted me with friendliness, which soon turned to fiery passion, on my morning walk to the sea. The sea responded to your call with a swell so magnificent, that it awed, intimidated, revelled, and fascinated me in equal measures. Even the pool became a series of childish joy when you fell upon it. The roads turned into paintings, the trees a glossy picture, and the horizon a blurred pastel of grey and blue. Entire existence breathed a new lease of life. You came in pearls, you marched in sheets, you poured in torrents. You reigned supreme. And I surrendered. Like I do to your ilk. Every bit yours. Every bit alive. Every bit grateful.

Thank you for reassuring me that you’ll be there, even if conditionally. Thank you for raining down my sorrows, for throwing open the gates that hold a deluge of tears. For healing all that can be healed. And for laying open those wounds that must stay green. Thank you for keeping my soil moist, vulnerable, and fertile.