A Bright Rainy Sunday Morning

I had put an alarm for 7.30 in the morning…..but on waking up I heard the rain , felt the pleasant cold and snuggled back to blissful sleep…after all it’s a Sunday….But when my eyes opened again, it was 9 and the beautiful weather got to me. I thought this cannot be missed. So I got ready , put on my grandfather sized raincoat , got my broken umbrella, rolled up my slacks and set out to enjoy the rains…

While sitting in the café, sipping hot tea, listening to the pitter patter of rains, and my favorite songs, in the background, I tried to find the meaning of the 24×7 work schedule that people build for themselves, and miss out on the simple joys of enjoying nature. I couldn’t find one. Then the freshly washed greens and oranges and purples, yellows,  around me, got me up and walking. I waded through the ankle deep puddles of clear water, there were peahens strutting around, enjoying, probably more than me. The flowers, with raindrops on the petals, looked like yards of colored velvet with beads placed on them in beautiful designs.  The green trees, dull fluorescent and purple leaves of shrubs, orangish red carpet of fallen flowers under the trees and the clean fresh cool breeze,  brought a feeling of pure untainted happiness…..it was intoxicating beauty.

And finally , I reached the crowning glory of my campus, the Lotus Pond, which remains bare, muddy and half dead all round the year except monsoons. Today it seemed like angels had risen from the waters and turned their heads towards the skies. Tall slender green, with a pink bloom here and there. These again, were shrouded in a blanket of raindrops, on which, the slight light when fell, sparkled like diamonds. I stood there, thinking of all my worries and to do’s for today, and I thought how futile my work is in front of this magnificence.

It is a walk I’ll remember for years to come. Some may think what’s so special about rains? They keep coming each year. Well, for me, each monsoon creates a new different memory. And today, I realized, how much ever creative man becomes, he cannot create or replicate the beauty of nature. The colours, the shades, light, the feel. It’s unconquered, and will eternally remain so.

Published by Iris

I'm an aspiring blogger... Experimenting with poetry, fiction and self-help articles.

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