Take me home, To the place I belong

School is a vivid recollection, etched delicately in my memories. Times when eating lunch from someone's pack was the set norm and choking on the ambiguity of 'I have my pen, where's the cap?' was a done deal. Beautiful moments, which surprisingly passed in a haste.

There are instances when you wish you could go back and undo the things you did back then. Maybe, you should have wished the most boring teacher on Teacher's Day, and maybe you should have attended the talk on 'Future of Education in India' rather than staying in class and doing, well, nothing. At that time, it seemed inconsequential but a series of 'What if's.. ?' seldom crop up in my mind.

The transition from Sanskriti to R was an undulating one. From a rather informal scenario to a very varied one, it took me time to realise what everything was all about. I recall my initial days here, and if someone asks me how I felt in the freshmen year, a ready reply emerges, 'I was figuring things out.' I still am.

A few months are left now, before I head out again. A quest to a place unknown, a place which might be very different from what I imagine it to be. I do not know if things turn out right in the end, but if they don't, we'll just keep moving.

Prima facie, will I miss R? I want to say No, but that will be a blatant lie. I will remember it for lessons learned, mistakes committed, hurt and invaluable people met. After all, school was also not a joy ride. In hindsight, you tend to forgive- others and yourself. That is what makes us human. The power to accept you faltered, and that no one is omnipotent.

And in this realisation of imperfection, we are all perfect.

September Rains

There's something odd about September rains. Weren't the monsoons just here? They left, didn't they? Oh! But the oppressive heat returned. And so did the craving for a cooler day, a more comfortable week. And so, it rained.

Monsoons make you realise how lush things are. How buoyed the trees feel, how ecstatic the world is. And then, it leaves behind a lull. The monstrous humidity pokes its ugly head at you, and you gasp for a breath of cool air, a wisp of the soft winds. None, whatsoever.

And then you see it, the thunder. The winds blow, conjuring all their strength and making way for the imminent rains. It pours, and the respite. Sometimes, I stand outside and listen to the pitter-patter and there's a rhythm to it. It tells you of the journey of these drops, from far away lands to you, and how it has completed it's destined way. You marvel at Him, for you knew you could not tolerate the heat anymore, and He listened.

It happens with all of us. We have our thresholds, and when things seem to go awry, it always rains. It soothes you, it's a balm for your pain. A panacea of the last resort. Rains, in more ways than one, are a way of reminding you that you are not alone. And that good is always met with good.

I hope it rains frequently, and without delay in the time to come. For not only does it wash away the dust and the grime, but it also gives you a new lease of life. To start things afresh, with renewed verve.

Look, it's raining now!