Do we have words for this?
Its the midnight. 12 to be exact. Its the time when i almost finished writing my diary…almost. Its already been 15 minutes when it started raining. Being the busy bug, a rain is not something you want, that would mess with your schedule. And then the busy schedule comes to an abrupt end with the power cut.
With nothing better to do, i come out. Sit under the dark. Stretch my legs and just sit. Its the rain that you miss when you are on your way back from home. Its the same rain, that you get stuck in, when you are planning to go out to meet the special someone. Its the same rain. But something about this is different. Its the calm, the loneliness, that pines in me to find a mate, a friend.
Is it the time? When the whole world is sleeping, you are only one wide awake. The senses are vigilant. In general, you are no more an observer trying not to get wet. But now you are one of it. At that time in the night, you are a part of it. Alone. Its a wonderful feeling. The tiny drops falling five feet away. And you are sitting under the portico. The tiny drops float to the ground and break into a thousand droplets, each droplet tiny, weightless, but significant enough to feel their existence.The tiny droplets engulf you in a drizzle, but small enough to never to get you wet. Its the cool breeze like a cool coat that you dont want to take off.
The lightning strikes in a distance…far far away; never disturbing you from your wide awake slumber. The senses see it all, feels it all, but never registers it. The nature lets out a muffled shriek to wake you, but that never ever reaches you. Houses, trees and other features shine up for an instant, fighting for your recognition. You see them for an instant, trying to figure out where they fit when you saw them in the morning, but they disappear as soon as they had showed up to you.
Its totally normal to be awed by the power of nature when you see the huge rocks on your trek up the tirumalai or to feel completely empowered sitting atop of the Chapora Fort of Goa glancing at the wide expanse of water. But when despite all the difference between nature and us, if i feeling as itself, as a part of it, recognising yourself in it, its a definitely different experience.
Its just a dream sequence that comes alive. You know you would never be able to feel it again. Atleast not in the same way you felt. Next time its to be different. Never with the same sense of oneness, never with the same sense of self-indulgent awe. Never with that of a kid allowed to play in the mud. Of a kid allowed to all his sweetmeats.