As I’m about to get down from the bus, it starts to rain all of a sudden. I’m returning home from office, and it’s already quite late. My house is a little far off from the bus stop, and I get all drenched. But I don’t complain. Timing is everything. If this would have happened in the morning, it would have been a catastrophe. (Turning up for work in wet clothes is one of my worst nightmares.) Whether something is good or bad depends on when it gets offered to you. And on your tastes too may be, a bit. I love a cold pork salad. Many would not.
My shirt and trousers are soaked. Again. A little while ago it was my sweat. Now it’s the rains. But it feels kind of blissful.
Nothing better than the rains to wash away a day’s tiredness. But we don’t try it often, do we ?
We did, as kids. Then we became sane. Getting drenched in the rain = catching a cold. May be that’s when we become adults – when our spontaneity gets replaced by “maturity”. A child is lost forever….. only to be discovered on evenings like these.
It’s no wonder hence that I feel no regret on seeing my drenched clothes and shoes at home tonight. And I smile a sheepish smile. I had something in my bag, after all. An umbrella.
(Archya, in his own words, is the trying-to-be-global bangali babu, who is attempting to carve out a niche for himself in blogosphere, having had mixed results in Medicine Practice. In short, a struggling artist.
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