Friday, June 26, 2009


I’ve always been allured by the rains or ‘bishti’, as we call it in Bangla. My earliest recollection of rains takes me back to my pre-primary school days. I remember standing outside the school gate in my oversized rain-coat, gawking at the downpour, frantically waiting for Dad to come. As some years passed by and I moved to a bigger school, rains started attaining more significance in my life. Given the huge number of students that my school had, to avoid commotion that heavy rains would otherwise cause, the school management would more often than not declare such days as holidays. Although one could call up the school to confirm if a given ‘rainy day’ had been declared a holiday, I took great pleasure in going to the school and find out myself. The 'rickshaw ride' to the school on such days in anticipation of a holiday being declared, and the exuberance among students on being told to return back remain deeply ingrained in my memory. As I moved on to higher classes, my mode of traveling to the school also changed. Speeding down the wet roads on my motorbike, splashing water on unassuming passers by, at least for those few moments, I felt no lesser than a superstar. My fascination for rains continued even at the law school. Standing under the façade of the law school’s archaic structure, conversing with friends, as the rains lashed down, delight is all I derived. As I write these words, I can see clouds of different shades and colours clamoring for space over the Arabian Sea. Gazing at the rains pouring down on the Sea from twenty three floors up in the sky, I can only ponder over my providence.

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