Rain always makes me thoughtful. Rain is when I invariably remember the kind of person I hoped I’d be.
I love the feel of the cool breeze blowing through my hair. And I always scurry to the kitchen to make myself a cup of hot chocolate. There’s something about hot chocolate and rainy days that gives me the snug feeling of being back in the Enid Blyton (read childhood) days.
It’s a standing joke at home and nobody comments about it anymore.So, last night it rained really hard. There was a sudden bust and suddenly the current had gone. And the thunder!! I’d almost forgotten what thunder sounded like.
We used to make up stories about rain as kids. My sis and I. I insisted it was God taking a shower. But what about the thunder? He was jumping... same like we did in the shower. And the lightning? I could never explain that.
Stupid! It’s God punishing the sinners.
Why?
Cos he told Noah. It’s to remind us to be good.
My sis had already started attending Sunday classes. She used to make up a lot of other tales about rain. Like the one about the chickens...
You know the drop of water that plops up when rain falls on water? The chicks play with that.
Really?
Yeah. Jus keep quiet and watch. If you open your mouth, the spell will break. Don’t blink your eyes.
And I always sat by the window straining my eyes. It never occurred to me that she might have lied. What a gull!
And my dad... I was scared of the dark. And invariably, heavy rains in Kerala those days, were accompanied by “current” failure. And while I sat trembling with fear, he taught me this little rhyme that I hum to myself even to this day!
It is a stupid little rhyme really:
“ Light-ay light-ay wekam waa
Wettam kataan wekam waa”
Translated, it means :
Light, light come fast
To show us light, come fast"!!
Nobody else but me could have EVER believed in a rhyme lathat!What's more, he even taught me the actions to accompany it. And I would chant it relentlessly till it drove everybody else mad.
And when the electricity finally came, I was ecstatic. My dad used to pretend along with me. And seeing my joy, mom and sis would join in. I’d be the heroine. It was my chanting, my magic spell that had brought back the light to my world.
What happy days those were... How big the world seemed and yet how secure. Everything was to be believed. And everybody. I think I’ve always carried that gullibility along with me. That child-like belief that the people I love will never lie to me.
I bristled whenever people asked me to grow up. Having read a lot more than the average person my age, I always thought of myself as a very big girl, indeed. But vicarious suffering never adds up to the real thing. I know that now. And I am glad I do.
But really, what is it about rain that rakes up this curious feeling of yearning? A yearning for days lost, days lived, days that never imagined they'd be remembered so fondly...
Suddenly, I'm feeling old. Ancient.
I love the feel of the cool breeze blowing through my hair. And I always scurry to the kitchen to make myself a cup of hot chocolate. There’s something about hot chocolate and rainy days that gives me the snug feeling of being back in the Enid Blyton (read childhood) days.
It’s a standing joke at home and nobody comments about it anymore.So, last night it rained really hard. There was a sudden bust and suddenly the current had gone. And the thunder!! I’d almost forgotten what thunder sounded like.
We used to make up stories about rain as kids. My sis and I. I insisted it was God taking a shower. But what about the thunder? He was jumping... same like we did in the shower. And the lightning? I could never explain that.
Stupid! It’s God punishing the sinners.
Why?
Cos he told Noah. It’s to remind us to be good.
My sis had already started attending Sunday classes. She used to make up a lot of other tales about rain. Like the one about the chickens...
You know the drop of water that plops up when rain falls on water? The chicks play with that.
Really?
Yeah. Jus keep quiet and watch. If you open your mouth, the spell will break. Don’t blink your eyes.
And I always sat by the window straining my eyes. It never occurred to me that she might have lied. What a gull!
And my dad... I was scared of the dark. And invariably, heavy rains in Kerala those days, were accompanied by “current” failure. And while I sat trembling with fear, he taught me this little rhyme that I hum to myself even to this day!
It is a stupid little rhyme really:
“ Light-ay light-ay wekam waa
Wettam kataan wekam waa”
Translated, it means :
Light, light come fast
To show us light, come fast"!!
Nobody else but me could have EVER believed in a rhyme lathat!What's more, he even taught me the actions to accompany it. And I would chant it relentlessly till it drove everybody else mad.
And when the electricity finally came, I was ecstatic. My dad used to pretend along with me. And seeing my joy, mom and sis would join in. I’d be the heroine. It was my chanting, my magic spell that had brought back the light to my world.
What happy days those were... How big the world seemed and yet how secure. Everything was to be believed. And everybody. I think I’ve always carried that gullibility along with me. That child-like belief that the people I love will never lie to me.
I bristled whenever people asked me to grow up. Having read a lot more than the average person my age, I always thought of myself as a very big girl, indeed. But vicarious suffering never adds up to the real thing. I know that now. And I am glad I do.
But really, what is it about rain that rakes up this curious feeling of yearning? A yearning for days lost, days lived, days that never imagined they'd be remembered so fondly...
Suddenly, I'm feeling old. Ancient.
posted by Rapunzel at 1:36 pm
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