It is such a romantic poet's dream true
The weather in front of me is blowing, howling and raining as hard as it can, possibly as hard as it can get. It looks so beautiful that words seem obsolete. As I write, the intensity increases and decreases almost simultaneously at the same time.
The drama unfolds when KD calls me outside. This is one of the rare times when someone else has taken me. Usually, I am outside of my own the moment rain starts. But this rain is something else.
Grand it is. The intensity, the overwhelming squalls, the overflowing drains, the stalled maruti cars, poor old bajaj scooters, students trying hopelessly not to get wet and yet losing hopelessly, the everything. The drain soons loses all semblance of decency and breaks free, laying wet the countryside. The ground in front is sogged out and is ideal for some good old face bashing exercise and this what Girish and me indulge in. Well, I am beaten down to pulp in a few seconds - Girish after is an experiment in muscles. Soon, we decide to run with the rain and soon we tire out. We run still and KD couldn't stop at an incline and goes and hits himself and breaks a few bones. Well, he will be bed-ridden for a month at the least. We turn to the hospital, anguished and exhilarated. The staff looks us at amazement, are we for real for in-spite of the pain, KD looks flushed with happiness and we are laughing our guts out....