It rained. It finally did. I heard the drizzling while I was sitting in my room and instinctively, rushed straight toward the window to acknowledge what I was about to see. Rain drops were falling down from the overlapping black foamy clouds in the sky. It made me feel like the happiest person in the world. I leaned out of the window, letting the raindrops fall on my cheeks and wash away with them even a teensy bit of sadness, if lounging within me. Rain, for me, is the definition of happiness. In no time, the drizzle intensified into cloudburst. It started descending down in torrents and the needle of my mood-o-meter jumped from ‘happy’ -- transcending ‘ecstatic’ -- to ‘euphoric’. The downpour continued without a single pause and with every second passing by, my happiness kept on increasing unabated. So I started to relish every moment of it. I selected a book to read while sniffing the subtle smell of mud and listening sweet whispers of rain. I watched those beautiful rain drops splashing in the puddles. I listened to the melodic sound of rain while delighting myself with every comfort food that was available at my house. And when I went to bed at night, the rain, not wanting to stop, lullabied me to sleep with its enchanting music. So with a smile on my face and content in my heart, I slumbered away.
In the middle of the night, a roaring sound - like a huge meteorite had fallen on my bed - woke me up. I sat up in my bed and looked around. In the room drenched with darkness, flickered a sharp, ephemeral light that died within a microsecond. Perched in the middle of the bed, I could hear the subtle rumbling of clouds behind the clamorous sound of pouring rain. It wasn’t until then that the drowsy me realized what woke me up in the middle of my sound sleep was actually a thunder. ‘God-is-firing-cannonballs-from-the-sky’ kind of thunder. A ghastly still shadow of me on the wall, produced by a faint beam of street light coming through my window, finally moved as I budged out of the bed to look outside the window. Water was STREAMING DOWN FROM THE SKY! Rain seemed more like a waterfall, a perfect view for me to wake up to. A huge smile drew on my face and I kept on wishing for another such deafening thunder after that. That is how much I love rainstorms and thunder and lightning.
My mom came into my room to see if I were doing alright. That thunder roar had awoken the entire house. “Alright? I’m way beyond alright. I’m doing wonderful, mom! I’m loving it.” My mom gave me that worried “is-there-something-wrong-with-you” look but when I conveyed a gesture of reassurance to her, she walked out of the room. And once again, there I was lying in my bed, listening to the low thundering bass complementing the enchanting melody of rain. “We are all blessed,” I thought, lying in my bed, cuddling my pillow.
The next morning when I woke up, it was still raining. Not in torrents though. It was trickling down and that was enough for me to sustain my happy mood. I played in the rain, stomping my feet in the puddles dashing the rain water all around. I wanted to take some pictures in the rain so I hid under a shelter to keep my phone from drenching and held my hand out in the rain to capture some rain drops falling upon my hand. And then I took some pictures of raindrops on the leaves that looked like glistening pearls attached to lavish green leaves. I looked skyward and tried tasting the rainwater. Every moment that passed by, exalted me into a higher state of happiness.
But then I heard the phone ringing. My mom picked up the phone and the expressions that started appearing on her face were a clear telling of something wrong had happened. I waited for the call to end and asked her what was wrong. She told me one of our relatives, who live in a certain lower part of the city, got badly affected by the rain last night. “Their house is still completely inundated,” she said, “The flood swept away every single thing from their house. Their furniture, appliances, clothes, money.. Everything! They spent the night on the streets with their kids.” They have four kids. The eldest one is about 10 years old and the youngest one is only 4. My mom’s cousin (the same person who got affected by the flood) came to our house later and told us what agony they had to go through that night. He told us they were inundated in the water neck high, seeing their belongings sweep away in the flood before their eyes. They, along with their kids, were sleeping soundly when the cloudburst happened. That same roaring sound of thunder that had put a smile on my face triggered terror in them. When I was looking out my window admiring the beauty of God’s blessing pouring down upon our house, they were looking at their deluged house that was perfectly empty from that intruding water before they went to sleep. When I was lying in my bed gratified and contented, listening the sound of rain, they were struggling to reach somewhere higher before the floodwater could engulf them. When I dozed off to the sound of rain, hugging my soft cuddly pillow, they were sitting in the middle of the street, drenching. When I was trying to capture a perfect picture of raindrops falling on my hand, they were hunting for their belongings in the floodwater.
Torn between feeling sad, embarrassed and selfish while he was narrating his saddening story in his faint feeble voice, all I kept thinking was why the same rain that brings happiness to one draws a frown on someone else’s face.
Stop being so brutal.
Stop being so brutal.