Walking in the rain


It was half past five in the evening and I was walking back home from office.
This was my everyday routine. It was pouring out of the heavens. It had been
raining since morning. You might ask me what was so special about this. I’ve
been in Dublin for over a year now and I have never seen rains like this.
No! I did not say that it does not rain here. It does, and it rains every
other day or at least whenever it feels like, but never so heavily. I can
walk in the rain for half an hour without an umbrella and still not get
drenched, that is the intensity of rains here!
Today it must be around 10 deg C. Because of the wind I felt as
though it was much cooler. I was dressed for a typical Indian summer, in
a cotton shirt and trousers. The only protective layer that I had was a
simple rain jacket, which covered my head and half my torso. I was
shivering. I was dying to go home and have something hot. I ran into the
shop to buy milk. As I walked in I decided to take the bus instead of
walking home. I wanted to stay inside this shop forever as it was nice,
warm and dry inside. But I had to go. As I was walking out, something struck
me in a flash. I changed my decision. I was going to walk! Walking in the
rain! How long was it since I did something like this? A couple of years? Or
was it more?

As a school kid I loved the cyclonic rains in Madras which gave me
an opportunity to get wet. In my teens it was the monsoon in Kochi and when
I started working it was the monsoon in Baroda and Bombay and that was it.
After I got married I was never given a chance to get wet in the rain. I
always loved the feeling of getting wet in the rain, coming back home,
having a cold shower and sitting under the fan with my hair open out (I have
really long hair).

As all these thoughts flashed through my mind, I started feeling
really warm. I slowed down my pace. It was a wonderful feeling. I felt as
though I was a ten-year-old kid again. The lashing rain and the voice of Kishore
Kumar from my Walkman had a totally relaxing effect on me. As I crossed the
hospital grounds I noticed some really beautiful flowers; I picked them up
for my vase. I took twenty minutes to walk a distance that normally takes me
only ten or less. My trousers were dripping wet.

When I reached home, my husband was already home from work. He
scolded me for behaving like a ten-year-old (a perfect replacement for my
Mom). As I changed into dry and warm clothes and made onion bajjis, I had the
satisfaction of enjoying a perfect evening.

How many times do we get a chance like this and how many times do we
leave all our inhibitions behind and enjoy? For me it was just
reliving a day out of my teens.

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