As I sit near a window, there is nothing that can sully my mind except the refresing cleansing action of the tiny drops of water as they trickle down the glass, forming tributaries, joining, separating, till they pool at the bottom of the sil, making tiny puddles.
Sometimes as I sit near an open window with the wind blowing in and carrying with it a spray of water, I could not care less about anything getting wet, except the feel of it on my face.
Looking outside I can see small pools of water rippling away as small drops fall all over it, making circles, and tiny bubbles. Bubbles that form and burst in seconds and yet look so happy bouncing away. The water too looks delighted with so much attention and love coming to it from these fresh, new young droplets.
Rain in the daytime, distracting me away from my work, my mundane daily tasks, makes me feel so stupid, slaving away for nothing. While a small bit of water falling arond me can bring so much bliss. As I look at the distance, towards the tall buildings in the horizon, I see them covered in mist and realise it is the rain that makes them seem covered in clouds. Attaching to them a softness only Nature can bestow, shrouding them in mystery - making them look like tall mountains covered in disguise, crafted by human hand and beautified by a simple spell of rains. Not the most innovative human eye could have created that wonder.
Evenings bring with them a mystical quality of their own - with the rain pattering away outside as I sit in cozily with my book and music - safe and dry and warm. Enjoying the soothing sound of rythmical tune of water falling on any surface - sometimes it trickles onto the cement, sometimes thrashes against the window panes, lashing against them in petulance, asking to be let in. And I stoic, sitting and enjoying the rage, sometimes allowing them inside for a few moments, only to get drenched. And loving every moment of it.
Sitting inside an office building, with screens hiding outside, the only indication of rain is the coldness of the aircon, looking outside I jealously look at the construction workers across the road, standing on the half unfinished rooftop, enjoying the love of nature, the blessing of rain, while I can only look. The sounds are muffled as glass windows craftily created keep the raindrops from hitting them, and the closed environment robbing me of the sounds of rain.
Then it is time to go home, and I think again about the puddles I will have to walk through, the umbrella, and how my office clothes will get wet, and my shoes...and then I walk out to the monsoon air. The air hits me like a soothing balm and takes away all my misapprehensions. Suddenly I could not care about the harm to my clothes, shoes, bag, laptop - anything. All I care about it the rain, the wind, the monsoons.
Yes, the monsoons are one of the best things to happen to India in 12 months.