Last time when the rain gods went ahead and wetted my neighbouring street ignoring mine, I remember being mad as hell. That rain never visited the lane I live in. It turned the street corner, wetting the road as it passed in one lavish swipe, smattering against David’s sand-laden window panes leaving behind a more photo worthy mess. And off it went to wet the neighbouring lane – unwanted, unappreciated, unsolicited. As I child, me and my cousins playing outside my house would run to the roads where it rained. We could never wait for it to come upon us.
After all these years those nice memories of tiny running feet kicking up dust along with road, chin up in the air, all of us racing to see who among us would get to touch the rain drops first, I was surprised that a glowing summer sun should dust, polish and bring out those very memories of rain-drenched, joyful days.
As I walked home yesterday for lunch (ah, the joys of having an office close to home!), the sun played hide and seek behind the clouds. As I progressed, so did he, coming out of hide mode, slowly lighting up the path, bathing the other end of the street in golden yellow like a lavish flame, proceeding towards me, crossing houses, parked cars, sleeping dogs, lamp posts, a biker, the new foursome litter of playful pups… engulfing me in all his brightness and warmth once again.
