It suddenly started to rain in the morning. I haven’t seen it in the last 4 months. It was so special. The beautiful smell of rain can sprout life even to the most morbid creations of this world. She blushed at me like a little child who pretends not to know you when you meet her after a long time. The world has been magnanimous to me for some time.
A friend in Chennai was something I didn’t expect given the character I am. Sandesh, Supriya , Shruthi , Shrutha and Santhosh( strange that all starts with S) have all been there for me during the most gruelling period of training. The academy life was wonderful because we were made to work more than others. As batch representatives we were asked to work as late as 12 at times. Initially we were all pissed off being asked to stay back. Then after sometime we all started enjoying it. Our solidarity was fuelled because we along with Sandesh were tagged as the unethical 4, for our outspoken nature.
Back in Bangalore things are looking even better. H1N1 has saved Malaysia for the time being with Vishal’s travel plans being postponed. I heard Ranees still calls out Varkey Varkey in his sleep. Hope his stone in stomach and heart be cured as early as possible. The former by medicine and the latter by a beautiful girl. Hari’s company in which incidentally I was also placed has reinstated the old salary. It is always heartening to see him doing well. Lakshman and I met at Guruvayoor last week, where he sold me the RS 5000 plan. This month also the book bill crossed Rs 2000, thus making me really sceptic about the plan. Aiswarya(I am mentioning her name for the first time in the blog) makes sure I am in the right track morally and academically every time we talk. She is pretty excited about joining the corporate world. Wishing her a fantastic banking career ahead. Let God give her the heath and imagination to empty the bourse of all the big shots into the coffins of her Japanese employer.
Vinu and Appu as always are doing well. We are planning a trip to Auroville, Pondichery next month.
So on Wednesday when I was travelling to Kerala, I felt more or less satisfied. Rain was watching me behind the clouds playing a hide and seeks game. When I reached Trivandrum, responsibility of setting Vishu Kani was given to me. After decorating I started missing Gauri. Yesterday was her first day in school. Asha is upset about not having her Ezhuthiniruthu in Mookambika. Hope the Gods in US will take care of her.
Yesterday I went to Kallar and Ponmudi alone. The trip was adventurous as there was no one to watch my back. I bribed the gate keeper and caught a glimpse of morning sun from the hill top. I truly missed my school friends when I trekked through the thick jungle of Kallar. Meenmutti had not dried up in the summer heat and poured into my heart the memories of the trip I took when I was 14. Still the rain was elusive. Last two days I listened to a lot of Hindustani music and it was soothing and exhilarating. I have decided to learn more about these songs which had the image of funeral songs in my mind.
Every desert will get its rain even after decades of waiting. It is the ultimate symbol of human persistence. But rain never discloses its whims. She likes to keep her secrets to herself. She doesn’t want to look obvious and predictable. The enigma of rain itself is its greatest beauty. It comes and goes when she likes fooling the army of sky watchers. The water that is the purest of all, the one that is vanguard of life is actually Mother itself as it can bring life even to the most parched corners of the earth. I saw her in full vigour today. I asked her to never to leave me again. She smiled and said, every time you truly yearn for me, I will manifest before you in the form of the very life I give you. In the evening I received another gift from her, a rainbow.
Amidst the crowd of normal people, charming ones, it is tough for a mad man like me. I go to pantry alone, not to be caught by sanity, but the coffee maker's rationale strikes me. It gives coffee when I ask coffee. It pours the right amount of milk. Right temperature. Why I cant give that warmth to the people who love me. Why I want to be mad. Why I love an asylum's aroma to a garden's fragrance? Why I love being alone in a crowd, though I like company? Why do I set guidelines for havoc. Why I fall from a cliff in every dream and wake up alone. Why do I forget the injustices done to me and masochistically repeat mistakes, Why do I love to be abused and love to play the victim.