Dear diary,
It’s cramped up inside and that bothering ring in
my ear. I’m already bored of the white outside, even though the cotton candy
clouds muster into a picturesque horizon… then in the spur of a moment I see
the white turning grey and the grey turning black, the clouds were like
sorcerers draped in majestic grey robe adorned with ravishing blue lightning.
And there it was, the city beneath covered in a misty blanket of crystal drops.
My mind swans to the thought, why do people refer
to it as grey days? I believe monsoon is of the most romantic seasons…just the
smell of first drizzle doesn’t that make your heart want to love endlessly! Or
the inexplicably beautiful feeling of dancing to the rhythm of falling rain .Look
out the window, its pouring love, go on take your sweetheart’s, hand walk in
the rain and let the clouds be cupid.
There’s a ping in my ear, the announcement says we
shall be landing now…landing in the city full of color, chaos, music and people.
Kolkata and rain, just the sound of it is sheer paragon. I think I’m gonna take
a taxi, one of those blazing yellow colored one’s, gives you the feel of
Kolkata. Taxi is cutting through the puddles, I put my head out and the moist
wind carrying the memories of music, art and revolution caresses me, it as if
relieves me of the longing I had all these months for this feeling of
belonging. How could I take no notice of those old retro styled plastered but
bewitchingly beautiful buildings wet in heaven’s tears, standing right there as
a witness of the journey of this city from Calcutta to Kolkata.
While I feel the drops of heaven touching my
fingertips it takes me to a flash back of last monsoon- one indolent afternoon
I decided to explore the city and ended up in a knee deep puddle of shyambazar,
well if I hadn’t almost swam across that puddle, I would have missed out on a
lively experience and an exquisite foot massage. Well, Mitra café’s was absolutely worth the float.
My reverie is suddenly broken by the enormous
towering pillars of Howrah Bridge, painted on the grey canvas embellished with
crystal droplets. It’s the F.M in the background with a retro song “hume tumse
pyaar kitna ye hum nahi jantee...magar jee nahi sakte tmhare binaa”, perfectly
fits in, isn’t it! And there goes my heart reminiscing how much it loves this
city in monsoon.
Pop! Goes my dream bubble, gotta take a train,
three more hours left of my journey. I’m midway through midnight train at Deoli
with Ruskin bond when my trance is broken by a very familiar smell, the next
thing I know I’m standing at the door gazing at endless meadows glossed with
morning drizzle, breathing in the heady scent of wet grass and sand.
I get down at my station, steal a glance at the
resplendent sky dappled with dark clouds and a colossal drop lands on my face,
soon the entire sky was descending. Ever closed your eyes and felt crystal
drops on your face? It’s utterly mystical…I open my eyes and across the tracks
on the other side of the platform I see the familiar warm face with those
smiling twinkly eyes, I’ve missed you mom.
Coffee in hand and intoxicating monsoon outside,
tonight I’m gonna sleep all warm and cozy with the rain singing me a lullaby. I
smell biryani, its mum calling out…I’m home J
Good night!
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