Yet another stream of thoughts interrupted, with the loud thundering noise outside.
As I look through the plain glass window, the gathering of the ominous clouds casting their shadows on the ground below, I firmly come to the conclusion that out there is where I belong, not in this stuffy classroom loaded with a monologue!
Out there, filling my senses with the smell of the wet Earth, kiss of the first showers, sight of the overcast sky and the strangely comforting sound of thunder, as of the pitter patter rain drops while tasting the pure drops of water from the heavens themselves—that is where I truly belong, feeling alive with every single passing moment.
Rains always evoked that excitement in me. Rains always held that mystique calling. They brought the smile back on my face and a pining in the lit up eyes. And though I may rave and rant about the summers and winters, the rains- whenever they come are most welcome. They have my heart and every feeling that is inspired in awe.
I’ve always thought of monsoons as a celebration of the Earth below and Skies above. The clouds pour down upon the parched Earth which opens up in a welcome embrace to every drop that falls on it. These are the moments of reception- of opening up and of letting go. Of Freedom.
And that freedom, that openness is what my bridled soul craves for. It yearns not to be restricted; to be unlimited in thoughts, actions and experiences. To not be bound in chains to the societal norms, rules, people and relations. And yet, yet I know I cannot have what I crave for.
It may not even be what I would wish for if a genie granted me those three magical wishes.
It’s a far thought and it’s unattainable- and that’s where its beauty lies.
That friction between my rants and the reality drives me forward every single day...