Rainy memoirs

It's been a long long time since I had posted anything: partly because I had been trying to keep busy and partly because I was overcome with a sense of ennui. Then one fine day one particular lady's blog caught my attention. In one of her many exquisite entries, she mentioned something which is very close to my heart - lying down and listening to the song of rain. Ahh! The magical sound of the rain's pitter-patter on the old neglected aluminium bucket . The intoxicating smell of the freshly drenched earth, the lichen, the jasmine. The sight of the solitary crow on the telegraph line defeated by the downpour; every now and then whirring its neck to unsuccessfully shake off the water. The ribbit calls of frogs in the evening. The puddle below the cornice of the window. The anticipation of love in the air. And the yearning...

Rain used to bring joy and gaiety when I was growing up.

Then one day the definition of pleasure changed. As life became engulfed in the maelstrom of hedonistic pleasures, the nuisance of rain became a medium to vent frustration. Till that one day...

I know you would remember the day as well . It was a cold, blustery night with an incessant torrent. We were walking, along with our entourage, towards Trafalgar Square. You weren't carrying your "brolly". Like the knight in shining armour brandishing his sword, I pulled out my weather-worn umbrella from the bag and seemed to contemplate the next move. We both knew what we wanted, but you still chose to walk out alone in the rain. I moved in quickly beside you and held it over you. I still remember the moment your hand brushed against my hand. I apologised, but was there a faint line of smile on those lips? Oh how I praised the good lord for the rain that day! And then when we stood at the traffic lights and I stole a quick glance at you, I saw a drop of water caressing those lovely locks. How I wished to gently collect that drop and let it slide over my face!

I fell in love with rain all over again.

And now the same rain taunts me, teases my lone solitary self. Why does the rain water taste salty?