The beautiful summer evening is the location and a ready-to-burst out cloudy sky is the backdrop; soothing breezy ambience is the controller. Well, the play was about to start. There was almost none when I reached there, except some stray dogs, swans & ducks on the pond, cattle and migrant birds. I took my seat on a roadside bridge which was almost lost and lonely like me. The unexpected thunderbolts promised a perfect sound system for the play to get started.
I was impatiently waiting for the play to start. Meanwhile, my view was disturbed by the passing-by vehicles & passers-by with their odd looks and strange smiles at me. I didn’t really care until the police van approached me.
“Son, it’s getting late. Go home.” But, I just smiled at him. The inspector warned me again, “Hope, I won’t meet you here again when I come back”
When the water droplets drummed on my body I abruptly returned to the play. WOW! It was raining. Petrichor, the pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a dry spell, it’s sinfully tempting. The animals and trees were dancing like the mad while I was completely carried away by the enthralling milieu it created. Well, now the name and the story of the play are crystal clear, “It’s raining.”
These are the rare moments when I really realise the meaning of those superficial modifiers (which I used to write in advertising) like breath-taking, on cloud nine etc. etc.
Though I was very calm I cried (Don’t know why)… I was living; I was living in it.
Had to go… Self – started my bike and drove away. But, different from the other days, took a special effort not to drive the bike above the speed limit of 30 kmph. Because, I was living in a play, was not just watching it…