Rain Dance

The land was dry. The air was hot. The wind non-existent.
Our parched throats cried out for relief, and only to be met by the glare of the sun.
And as we sat squirming uncomfortably at the rolling streams of sweat
It happened

The horizon changed
From light blue, shades of gray entered our vision
And before we knew it, the glaring sun was gone
The non-existent wind was now cool and refreshing
The mood around shifted from frustration
Relaxed smiles replaced our frowns
And then we saw it

The dark hue of the sky was split apart
A dazzling light streaked across it
Carrying with it loud rumblings
A glimmer of hope started emerging within
We all knew what we wanted, but dare we say it out aloud?
Would the clouds and the wind betray us, and they had so often done before?
We looked at each other, wondering, hoping, waiting
And then we felt it

It fell on my head, trickling down my face
Overpowering the sweat, and bringing cool comfort
As I looked around, I knew I wasn't the only one who felt it
Loud cheers erupted from around
But before we could even finish screaming for joy
The clouds decided they could not longer hold on against the force of the water
And they let loose

Putting our bags under the shade, we ran out down the steps
Shouting, screaming, cheering, singing
Hugging, dancing, jumping, twirling
The rain dance had begun

***

I've lived in many places in my life, and seen various types of rain. In Dehradun, I've gone into the garden and collected hailstones. In Bangalore, I have gotten drenched returning from school because the rain decided to time itself accordingly. In Kuwait....well, no rain there. And in Toronto, I've complained incessantly about the rain and the depressing weather it brings.

But two days ago in Pune, I experienced rain like I never have before. As the rain started pouring, a bunch of us, ranging in age from 20 to 35, ran outside and danced in the rain for almost 2 hours. We sang and danced to every song we could think of, played every game our kids could have thought of, and bantered with our project managers to cancel our lesson plans for the day (without success, of course).

There were no inhibitions left. No awareness. No thoughts. Just feelings. Feelings of relief, excitement, craziness, laughter, friendship, and pure happiness. It was the best kind of high.

I know that monsoon in Bombay is hardly a romantic fantasy, and within a few weeks, I will be complaining incessantly about it. But for those two hours in my life, I learnt to love rain the way I never have before.

And knowing me, I think that's saying a lot.