How did it come to this? And when...?
The answers are a bit blurry on the edge.
I took myself by surprise when earlier today I found myself shutting all the windows and doors to escape the horrible sound of the rain. Something I used to enjoy so much over the years, is now utterly garbage.
I was "absolutely" not triggered to write this after @zayedsakib 's pouring love for the rain, but reading that post definitely triggered me to get off my lazy bum and finish it.
This excerpt was written probably about 6-7 months back, never got around to finishing it. This does feel like the good old days when we pushed each other to the limits in terms of regular posting, doesn't it! No one would happier than Dada!
I really don't wanna try and delve into the whys and the hows of how it happened (which are what derailed me from this post for so long, as I said....blurry on the edges).
There was once a time when rain used to ignite heavy sentiments. I can still remember days I could close my eyes and recreate the smell of fresh soil as the first drops of monsoon tears gently caresses it, the টাপুরটুপুর and the cool, breezy clouds.
I was the type of person who would stand by the window every time the rained drenched the garden soil and sing along with Aurthohin,
বৃষ্টি নেমেছে আজ আকাশ ভেঙ্গে
হাটছি আমি মেঠো পথে
মনের ক্যানভাসে ভাসছে তোমার ছবি
বহুদিন তোমায় দেখি না যে
This was one of the first songs I learned to play on the guitar as an 8th grader. There were very few rainy afternoons my guitar didn't "weep" to the tune of Epitaph at a gloomy corner of my room. Maybe it still does, silently.
After all these years, the memories still give me goosebumps!
And yet, every time the weather app on my phone shows an alert for rain, I let out a silent sigh of disappointment. It is debatable whether the sigh is at the possibility of rain, or at my lack of ability to enjoy the rain as I used to. But it's a sigh nonetheless, and not the tingle of romanticism in a 17 year old, not anymore.
This is the second time I am writing this in the last 24 hours or so, Maybe I am getting old.
Last time I stood on the balcony, with a cup of failed latte art on my morning cappuccino, life was very different. I could create glimpses of sunshine no matter how dark the clouds were. A lot has changed since then, for better or for worse.
And things are changing again. Maybe for the better this time around, for once!
Maybe, just maybe I'll walk the rainy boulevards of this dire city again....for the good old times. Maybe my guitar will sing again,
তবে কি যুদ্ধে গেলাম তোমায় হারাতে?
এপিটাফের লেখাগুলো পড়ি ঝাপসা চোখে
Ironically enough, the subtle beauty of a rainy afternoon has really started to grow on my two nieces.
