August 6, 2014 § 1 Comment
I am reading.
It is calm outside. The coffee besides me is sending out vapors -some lithe, some voluptuous, a few junoesque. Alluring. My book, my coffee, my couch. The night, the late hours. All seemed pristine, quintessential.
No alert, no warning and it starts raining.
My reading got interrupted by the sound of heavily pouring waters. My coffee vapors were getting condensed as they were uncoiling themselves into the raining night. The belle of the moment got stolen by the intruder.
I eased my book on my lap and leaned towards the window. No wind. Just water. It had rained slightly a few days back. So no petrichor. But not today. The rains interrupted me. I look outside. Transparent drops are not visible in the dark. I search for a light source. I see an incandescent street light. The rain falls through a yellow-orange hue.
Those streaks of water fall with such scrupulous grace that I gaze at it longingly. To be with them. Soaked in them. I spread my arms out of the window. The drops fall on my hand. So delicate. I play with them on my palm. Coalesce. Then traverse them on the lines of my palm without breaking the bonded drops. I am so immersed that I forget my coffee and fallen book.
I pick up my upset book and still warm coffee. I push my couch towards the window. Resting myself besides it with my book and drink. I lay myself comfortably on my couch. The rains sing. The vapors dance in a slow rhythm and, I read. Now it feels complete.
Be my guest sprinkles and torrent.