It poured down
And seemed to have done so
For as long as anyone remembered.
The Sun was but a fading memory
In a wet dark hurried world
Filled with one repeating sound
-mirroring our repeating days-
The hypnotic sound of the pouring rain.
Rain outfits of all kind were cherished
With the reverence bestowed on a vital piece of armor
In times of war!
And the victory of making a life-saving tool
Out of an ancient work of art
Some struggled for a personal touch
A Macintosh and a pair of Wellington boots, for example
Added an air of distinction
And considerable facility to move around.
“We should be more practical” said others
“In a wet dark hurried world such as this”
“A small flashlight would be the thing to have”
“If there was time to look for one.”
But we were busy people
Who could not be hindered by the dark
Or the mud puddles at most waist-high.
Most of us had perfected the art of avoiding puddles, anyway
And maneuvering umbrellas in the dark
To avoid unfortunate collisions.
As for those who slipped
And fell by the wayside
Well, accidents have always been a part of life.
There are those who run and those who don’t.
We were busy people
And it had been pouring down
For as long as anyone remembered.
We knew it was morning
By the sound of alarm clocks
That launched us into working days
In pouring rain
Tied together
Not with hollow pieces of metal
As was done in the ancient world
But with commitment to
Running faster
Needing fewer umbrellas
And making sure we kept
Meticulous trace of all memos and meetings
In cyber space or otherwise.
We did not build temples, pavilions, or palaces
As did people of the ancient world
But rather worked for less concrete, more malleable goals
We lived in the “age of access”
And possessing material goods
Was going out of fashion rapidly
Or so it was said
Remaining “connected” was the name of the game
And four-fifth of the world
Was out of the way conveniently.
At night,
When we reached home
If we reached home
In pouring rain
Worn out by having engaged
In bare-handed combat the whole day
Ghosts from the cyber world
-And the weight of the umbrellas
We carried at all times-
We sank in the nearest chair
And fell back to sleep
With the hypnotic sound of the pouring rain
Without as much as remembering
The success or the failure of the day that had gone by
Probably without an umbrella collision.
There were attempts at noticing one another, too.
Group project, round tables, workshops and such
Big and small ambitions
Good and nasty exchanges
Genuine Question marks
Hollow pedantic minds
Fascination with the sound of one’s own remarks
On unbearably long, dark, rainy days.
There were attempts at noticing one another.
It was on one such dark day
During one such pouring rain
That following a roaring sound
A sudden swift daring blade slashed the dark!
A flash of lightening had struck unexpectedly.
What an unheard thing!
Our rain had been free of thunder and lightning for a long time
For as long as anyone remembered, in fact.
So what on earth was going on?
Some people run for cover
Some froze with fear
And others simply looked in amazement
For one complete instant, the darkness had banished.
In that instant I looked
I looked and saw you
Standing in the rain without an umbrella
Wet and tired, but not hurried or hassled
With a greeting smile
And a readiness to talk
Unknown in such rainy times
For that one instant
The cold mist lifted
The repetitive sound of the rain faded into the background
And I heard my own heartbeat, once more
I took a deep breath
Put my umbrella down
Gathered all the strength and the selfishness I could muster
And called your name.
Who was to tell
When the next flash of lightening might struck!
June 9, 2000
