Plop

I perished in the heat all day at home today. To cap it all, the electricity went off for an hour. The keyboard stuck to my fingers as I worked. I stuck to the chair as I sat. My feet stuck to the floor as I walked. The curtains stuck to me as I tried getting some fresh air out the window. My face had this glow---not the healthy is-it-love, type but the let's-fry-some-parathas-here type.

Then, in the evening, slowly and steadily, it built up. There was a murmur of thunder. A flash of lightning. A whiff of that wet smell. A shy breeze. And then, without any notice, it began to rain. A million, billion , trillion hosepipes from the sky-blue tarpaulin we walk under let go. And when I say let go, they really let go. Stripes of rain zig-zagged down and hit the roads. One could almost hear the sizzling sound as H2O met baking tar. It rained, and rained, and rained. I leaned out of the window. But the grills that keep thieves out kept me in, and the water flowed on, tantalisingly out of reach. I could see it, hear it, smell it. But to touch, no no, that was a teaser.

There are puddles on the street. A bunch of excited, once-grimy kids are splashing in them. The cars that usually roar by are squelching past. The rusty, black window grills are shining at me. Lightning flashes insolently on the horizon, putting my 100 watt bulbs to shame. The stripes are still coming down. And this is just the beginning.