I love the sky, a bit too much. And yesterday the sky gathered its clouds as if it sensed my loneliness. I was with my friends all day but my mind was foggy, I couldn't feel my own body. We left our workplace and reached the train station around 4pm. The ride to the station felt wonderful. The wind and its violence ended up snapping the branches of the gulmohar trees, startling the drivers stuck in the traffic. I sat by the rudely closed window of the van, curiously looking out like a pet dog who's excited to go for a walk.
The cumulonimbus clouds, my favourite, gathered around the sky. The wind made our clothes flutter vigorously. The sun hid among the fluffs and I couldn't stop smiling. I despise the heat. I have the tendency to sweat a lot. And this windy, dark weather lifted my mood.
I love the rain only second to the moon. Whenever I felt down, the rain would arrive as if to comfort me, to cry with me. The coolness of the damp air would feel warmer than a hug. I would cry to my heart's content and fall asleep.
This time, the rain made me so happy that I felt alive. We arrived at the train station and the place felt magical. I've been walking down the same staircase for the past twenty days. I never thought the same crowded station would bring me so much joy. I could hear my own excited giggles, and for once I didn't hate the sound of it. I didn't care about my bag or the books inside. I hopped along the platform under the drizzle without a care about what the others thought.
My phone in my hand, I captured every moment like it might slip away if it didn't. My friends probably had a hard time trying to get me to behave, but I felt so child-like, I wanted to make this a memory that would last.
We boarded the train and the rain poured down. The seats would never be empty, but this time there were plenty of empty seats. But I chose to stand near the open door, clinging onto the stanchion tightly. The train began to move, and I entered my new dream.
The mountains and ponds looked ethereal. The rain came down heavier as we went. I captured a lot of pictures, or so I tried. The camera could never capture the dream-like sight. I could swear my eyes were sparkling the whole time. I felt so alive and happy. I didn't think of throwing myself off the train, or anything remotely close to death. I wanted to live for this. I wanted to live for you.
I waited for you yesterday, when the train sped through Tirusulam. I thought of you when the hills passed by. I remembered how you loved the rain too. You said you loved the smell of the damp soil and how it tickles your brain. I thought of the flowers you planted in my garden when I saw the wildflowers barely surviving along the tracks. The rain must've been a delight for them after the very hot week.
We got off the train, it was still raining. The wind felt angrier. Or maybe it was just me. I walked up the stairs with my friend but my eyes were locked to the raindrops cascading from the roof. I waited for you again, so we could spend a while longer watching the water droplets splash against our palms. I could ignore the calls from my home and the ride waiting for me downstairs, just to spend more time with you.
I waited for you, but you never came. So I walked down the stairs, jumped into the auto. The driver pulled the side covers of the auto rickshaw so the rain wouldn't come inside. It worked so poorly and I'm glad it did so. The water splashed and entered the vehicle through the slim gap. I was ecstatic. I wanted to walk home. I wanted to walk home with you.
But you weren't there. And that was alright.
I did want to hold your hand and walk down the streets getting completely soaked without a worry in the world. I did want to slip away with you to one of those icecream parlors and have your favourite chocolate dipped cones, ignoring the embarrassment of looking like wet owls. I did want to climb one of those hills and carve our names into one of those rocks, or maybe the barks of the trees. I did want to spend the evening with you, rambling on about the flowers and trees I met that day.
But I was happy by myself. The rain kept me company, so did the clouds, the trees, the strange plants and their leaves. My friends were with me, but of course I enjoyed my company more. I imagined myself riding the train alone, sticking my hand out to collect the piercing rain drops.
I no longer waited for you, because I know you won't come to me. And that's alright.
I was content by myself. I could rub my own wrists and calm myself down. I can hug my pregnant-looking bag and make myself warm. I could lean against the wall of the train and rest my head against its door. I could hold my own hand and make myself smile. I can try to love myself instead of begging for yours.
