Reminiscing...

The smell of rain. The smell of earth. This heavy breeze growing old is what lingers still.

I travel back to other days, other years. To other city, to other streets, similarly drenched. To evenings spent sipping the humid air that still allowed the building of feeble castles. To moments spent watching orange-yellow rain, dripping incessantly from sneezy lamp-posts. I travel to the hushed humming of monsoon songs, hoping they were tunes familiar to you. Away, far away.

I think of rain-beaten buses and their helpless windows. Of the daily rides across the monsoony Calcutta bypass. Each stop arriving with a naive sms, each landmark with a memory, each radio-melody with a smile.

I think of rickshaw rides, of ice-tea, of bitterness and that constant acidic joy that had gift-wrapped all sorrows then. Of life that had come with promises, failure, friends, special friends, best friends and all that compartmentalizing.

I think of those million plans and hazy dreams that had made the raindrops sparkle. On the trees, on coffee mugs, in canteens, on my palms.

I see the Rain has paused outside. Hesitating here and there in puddles. Awaiting clouds that had promised to join soon.