Seeing her coming towards me have always made me feel joyous. In fact, just by the very thought that God has granted my deepest desire of giving me a slight hint of her arrival is a gift I am ready to trade with none. Never in my life have I wondered for a moment why we even crossed roads. But the question that I have always had from the time I saw her, which in fact still clouds my mind is: Who would be the lucky one to be proud of being the only person whom she would love, with whom she would share her secrets, with whom she would laugh and cry? Because I’m sure that I’m not the only one fallen for her beauty and her aura. Many times I wonder, is it only men or even the poor inanimate objects that are struck by her charm and sway to her will? I don’t blame them. Not that I can’t. (Humans can blame anything and everything). Who wouldn’t like to be called the only man made for her? Describing her beauty is a task no men can achieve, nor have I found any poem written till date that can be as beautiful as she is. You can obviously pinpoint my small view of the world but we all don’t live the same life. I’m sure that my love for her can make me do the impossible or at least try. Who knows my stars might get aligned in a fortuitous pattern and she might take notice of my inner sense of love and respect for her and in return she might shower her love on me!
I don’t exactly remember the time I was actually- in Twilight’s parlance- imprinted by her. It might sound dramatic and over exaggerated but she could make the leaves of a tree rustle on their own accord. I have seen every part of the Ashoka‘s, lined in a self-aligned queue, dance and sing, as if they have taken notice of their mistress. The birds, even if they tried, cannot escape the whirlpool of craziness that engulfs everything that comes in contact with her. The sound these innocent beings make while attempting to escape the madness might have been the inspiration of Rahman‘s music. Where can one hear a medley created by chirping birds, rustling leaves, and the thoughts of a lonely soul trying to figure out the way of making her stay with him? Would she be moved by the beautiful and cathartic music composed just for her and that too out of the volition of the music makers? But does she even care what a mortal soul with nothing but an impure heart and selfish interests feels about her? I guess not.
I have always felt that she is with me but she isn’t. Weird it is I know, but that’s how it is. I don’t know why. Not considering her feelings (if she has any), nor the pain she might feel by my open declaration, I honestly declare that I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with her. The way she sings, the way she dances, the naughtiness with which she makes others love her tantrums- I love every bit of it. The pure feeling that arouses inside me on her arrival outshines the way she teases me and makes me feel stupid. I believe she is sent to this planet to make me, a mortal being, learn to love. I have seen leaves sprout and waters change direction when she is happy. Can these be my imagination which is making me see things that actually is caused by something else? Who cares!
But can it be always that one does not have any negative trait? She can be a sweet pain for those who don’t know how to pay her back with the love she expects in return of her care, or for those who don’t know to what extent they can command her. God save those who have even witnessed her anger. It is not that I have personally seen her getting angry but I have heard it from my friends who are also close to her. They say that she can be as cold hearted as possible if she is not in her mood. I believe that the only reason why she is able to command control on people and other beings around her is just because of her beauty, charm, her innocence, and her unselfishness. Brains: I’m not sure I can comment upon that because I have not had good chance to openly talk to her since ages.
I guess it was in my 11th grade when we actually met and had a good time together. That was the time when I actually felt her touch and it was special. It was the last time we were together as if we were one. Between us then there were no restrictions of parents, no rules of what is right and what is wrong. She would never ask anything from me except awaiting her arrival the next year. The only trace she often left behind was my wet clothes and sporadic appearance of puddles on the streets. Its been years since I have actually enjoyed her presence- the rain. Today sitting here in my front porch at 4 in the morning I am feeling her back again. Sipping hot tea at a time when it is only 2 hours before the sun would shine again and make the creatures of night to go back to their hiding, she has accompanied me. I loved it. She even touched my arms by the spray of shower that had bounced off the surface where I am sitting now. Dear rain, thank you for accompanying me on this sleepless night at a time when everyone’s asleep.