Impressing is your job, expressing is mine.

Jon messages me at 1 in the night (evening for people like us) and asks me 'Dude, you awake?"
(What am I supposed to reply? No dude?..lol). I asked him if if it was another PJ- it usually is- it wasn't.

Jon tells me bout this chick's blog that he really likes n can't stop describing (the blog, dammit- think straight) so I decide I might just look it up coz I ain't sleepy.

I do- it's Pink !!!! I'll never go through this, i tell myself. But I skim through, coz I have to mesage Jon (he's on Gtalk now) and give him some feedback, make it sound like yeah, I read it n stuff. Then I start liking what I read. I like poets who write from their heart, I like intellectuals who write from their head. (I can't stand people who write from their head and try make it sound like it's comin from the heart, but that's off the topic). Well, this girl writes from somewhere in between- personal stuff with an intellectual touch n the other way round.

Then, it catches my eyes!
There's this list of things she's drawn up that probably she likes n stuff, and in it there it is- a few lines about rain.

Now rain's got a pretty negative connotative meaning for me since I've come to Hyderabad (exept for memories of college being called off)- dirty streets, wet jeans (or cargos, or cotton, or whatever you wear, man), leather sandals being ruined, no autos etc etc.

Then I remembered rain back home. And in Sikkim- and I got nostalgic. I messaged a few things rain reminds me of to Jon. He posted them as a comment on her blog, but dammit! that was only a fraction.
So I get up from bed (I'd gone back to sleep), take my chair out and sit on the balcony after I find a notebook whose origin I can't seem to remember and start scribbling stuff bout rain and providing nutrition to sons of bitches mosquitoes.

Here's a what rain reminds me of, what it means to me, or rather what it meant to me before my eyes went redder than Sunny Deol's blood and the mosquitoes drank up more blood than you donated to the SBI Blood Bank scheme, if you did that is.

The smell of wet earth. Nothing, just nothing, in all of creation compares to that smell- not even the drifting chicken in the air when you are passing through a neighborhood on a hungry stomach, or the smell of your girl's shampoo when she's really really close to you- nothing!

The wet blades of grass

Dead leaves on those wet blades of grass

The way they stick on your legs when you walk on the grass.

(And the wet spider webs, with a few droplets of water shining on them)

Watching the rain hit your window pane.

The rain hittin the front portion of your balcony and a little puddle gathering just below the railing.

Running your hand across that railing when it stops raining- that cold touch of the iron, and the way the water drips down your palm/fist.

Simply watching the droplets hanging on to the bottom of the iron rod and dropping down, to be replaced by another droplet.

The cool feelin when you touch the front walls of your house after they become wet.

Wrapping yourself up in a blanket and watching a movie- and drinking a coffee (or a hot chocolate, or bournvita, or horlicks, whatever makes you happy)

The puddles in front of your house

The joy of splashing around in those puddles.

That numb feeling in your wrinkled toes after splashing around.

You sit inside and look out the window, at the ground to see if it's still raining and you don't see the rain, but you see those tiny ripples on the puddles, and you know its still drizzling- one of the best sights of mundane lives.

The platter of rain on a tin roof.

(When I was in the hostel- the top floor. It used to bloody POUR- noisy as hell, but the most soothing lullaby ever. Going to sleep listening to that noise after a long day,,,,)

The feeling when you sit near an open window and tiny drops fall on your skin- ones you can't see but just barely feel. The joy it gives your skin

Those inspiring times when you sit down to write a poem about rain, and you realize that the only words that ryme with rain have a negative evaluative meaning... Pain, Drain, Slain, Chain etc..

Then you get the brilliant idea, and you replace rain with 'showers', and your next line ends in 'flowers'. And then when you need to write rain again, you're fucked.

You give up on the damned poem and go back to watchin the rain.

Sitting on a bench or on a bike after a shower and letting those drops wet your ass- that cool pleasant feeling...

Cycling through a puddle.

By the time you reach school, the right side of your trouser's wet
Your friend's left side of the trouser's wet too.

Falling while playing football.

You gather all your shirts during the week and wash them on sundays, hoping they dry because you don't have another one for tomoro.

Skip your bath coz it's too cold (You'll connect with this only if you have lived in a boys' hostel in a hill station)

The wet footprints all over the staircase, and the corridoor.

Get into your friend's blankets, sit on their clothes, drop food all over threir beds, and they don't mind- coz next time- it's your bed!

The way your socks get wet and your legs freeze inside your shoes, and the relief you get when you open them.

The mud all over your shoes, and the way they don't shine when you polish them the next day.

That cold feeling of your wet shirt sticking to your body.

Pine needles after the rain.