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I wish I could write this world into heaven of peace and harmony. I wish I could create ably characters who could transform all those barbaric terrorists creatures into innocent living organisms. I wish I could erase or scribble of those who eat sleep and breathe war. But then, I realise I am in my room in front of my writing desk with my journal and a pen in my hand. Alas! Wishes are wishes.Reality is reality. And here I go to have my breakfast done.

THREE SIDES OF A STORY

There’s always three sides to a story- Yours, Theirs and the Truth.

A week ago I had been asked to meet my colleague and friend at a coffee shop. I was obviously glad to have a chitchat flavoured coffee in this winter month of December. She got married a year ago. Coincidentally, both our husbands were close friends already. As promised, I met her. I wouldn’t wish to reveal her real name as I earnestly don’t mean to. Let me call her ‘Rekha’ for now. And finally we met.

Rekha seated herself facing me and ordered two hot coffee, just two cups of coffee. She seemed so desperate, helpless and depressed.

What happened?” inquired me.

I am planning to divorce.” She replied instantly.

I was utterly bemused by her unexpected reply. I remained silent as no words clung to my tongue for a moment. She sunk her head down, forehead resting on her palms.

I am done with him. He’s always busy.Busy with his phone. He doesn’t spend time with me at all. Never he did!” She grumbled.

I sat spellbound, dumbstruck and certainly shocked.

You doubt him?”

I don’t know!! I have no idea. I have to go shopping with my friends…..No movies..no outing nothing…I thought about this….a lot…Now I decided…” She wiped her tears and nose with an handkerchief.

She got up, washed her face and settled down.  She was assertive in her decision.

Actually you should talk to him Rekha before concluding.” I attempted to console her.

No! I asked his office friends. They had also noticed him busy with his phone even during break hours. I am sure, he has an affair.” She answered instinctively.

Neither she nor I conversed about the matter after that. We had a monotonous, silent coffee time while the rain had been drizzling outside.

That evening while my husband and me were having an usual chitchat, we came across this topic unintentionally which then grew into a serious issue between us. When he heard what Rekha had shared with me, he was so anxious to talk to his friend.

Two days later my husband happened to meet him. He purposely put across this topic. His friend, Rekha’s husband too had lots to share.

How could she criticize me like that? Everyday she wants to go out. Have dinner outside. Roam around somewhere. What should I do? I am a guy who loves staying indoor? But still I take her out, go for shopping. Oh God! I am no longer going to tolerate her. She is supposed to understand my interests too.” He complained like an innocent child.

My husband and me finally decided to speak to them. We visited them one fine day. I repeated every word  that Rekha had told about her husband. My husband too revealed what his friend shared with him.

Rekha had awfully mistaken her husband. Her husband was a man who loves being indoor and play his favourite games in his mobile. He used to spend his free time playing Games. He never had an affair. He swore on God. He was just busy with his games. Rekha felt sorry. She confessed to him in front of us.

Today most of the guys married or bachelor has a passion for Games. Both my brother and my husband are passionate in Clash of Clans and Criminal cases. Their commitment towards it have always astonished me. Apparently, men or women if they are left undisturbed find tranquility in their own world.

Toss A Coin

 

“Take out the coin…Toss it yaar!” suggested one.

“Head ! Head!”said the other eagerly,wrapping it with both her palms.

As I stood scrutinizing this small conversation between two young girls who seemed to be college students, something popped out in my head.

Those two youngsters just made a decision simply by tossing a coin.

Majority of we homosapiens, encounter or might have encountered this problem in our life. When something dubious ruins our inner peace making us incompetent to come out with a decision, we toss a coin. How could just a one rupee coin decide the rest of our life, or decide what is to be done in future? You permitted a silver coin to decide your life. Are we a dunderhead or numskull for a small, round silver coin to hoodwink us?

No! Obviously not! Have you ever noticed this? Whenever you toss a coin and the moment when it numerously flips in the air, at that very moment  your heart speaks to you, it whispers

“ oh God! It should be head or let be tail.” That’s the moment you seriously decide what you have to decide.

Tossing a coin is therefore just a mode to dig out the right decision from within us. There are two types of people who toss coins.One type toss to decide and the other toss to know the future result. Many of us eagerly await important results or outcomes in our life. It might be an examination result or might be the arrival date of  someone or something. We toss to know whether we pass or fail, whether we win or loss although the results will be different. Tossing a coin to know the to-be results is a cognitive way of human mind to create peace in order to reduce tension and stress.It’s a tactical approach of human mind to inculcate positivity and shun away negativity.

I was once a frequent coin tosser during my school days and college years. Today I am a responsible woman who takes decisions in a blink. Whether it’s right or wrong I have to face it, as it was me who had decided. I could never blame the coin for flipping and falling inappropriately or unfavourably. The decisions are made by me and so the consequences have to be confronted.

So next time when you toss a coin and observe it flipping in the air, something pops in your head,something spoken by your heart. Follow it! Because that something is called YOUR DECISION.

    

Self-Annihilation

The Conscience within me bursted out,

The moment my eyes,

Caught hold of an image.

A haunting stare,

Of a five years old boy

Stirring the whole world.

 

I stared at the image.

What am I to exclaim?

Humanity! Where has it gone?

Human beings! What has happened to them? Animals do fight ,

For survival,for food.

Human creatures fight ,

For power,authority,recognition.

 

Gain it. Acquire it.

Why through  heinous and barbaric means?

Is it the curse from the kauravas of Mahabharata?

Did they curse that man would be the cause

Of man’s extinction?

 

The prodigious catastrophic state of his mind,

However, fails the definition of humanity.

What role did he perform in this war,

For he to suffer? What was his karma?

You reap what you sow!

What did he sow,

To reap a  bloodshed syria  in front of him?

A five year old boy sits staring at the world  .

His whole body covered in dust and blood.

His eyes ask us.

What is all these for?

Peace? Eternity? Freedom?

No! But  A deliberate self-annihilation

Be Your Own Counsellor

Our emotions are our own possessions and are never supposed to exasperate others.

 

As I was concentrating on chapter 3, the door was suddenly being banged. I almost jumped up and sped up to open.

Hi Resh! What’s up? Renika entered without my consent.

Although her sudden bang scared the hell out of me, I cheerfully welcomed her.

Didn’t go to work? asked me. It wasn’t an intentional question. Yet we have to inquire at least whether she and her family was fine . So I continued asking such questions to which she gave an instant reply.  Finally she revealed the main intention behind visiting me. She had a serious problem with her daughter.

What  is it? This time I meant it.

Actually Nidhi (her daughter) gets angry often and when she is, she says she needs a counselling. She is disturbed and apologises for being angry. She sometimes scares me with her strange behaviour. I have no idea and this gets serious day by day. Do you know any counsellors nearby? She isn’t willing to talk to me but she is ready to open up to a counsellor.

 

How old is she?

Hmm!  16 by this october. Reni sat silent for a moment.

Have you informed her dad?

No! He has his own headaches. Why would I augment his pain? But now, I feel I should. She complained like a child.

Both of us remained silent for few minutes. I stood up, walked towards the kitchen, prepared juice for both of us. She followed me there. I stretched forward a glass of juice.

 

Why do you worry a lot? I tried to console her.

Then? She stared at me for a moment and accepted the juice I offered.

Let’s play doctor doctor. I took a mouth full of juice and swallowed it instantly to give her a smart smile.

What do you mean? She asked eagerly.

 

Bring her to me tomorrow evening convincing her that she is being taken to a psychologist as well as a counsellor. My husband won’t be here didi.

She looked at me puzzled.

 

Are you nuts?She is a 11th standard girl,not a small child. She reminded me

And you are the mother of that 11th standard girl. Don’t forget your  position. I replied confidently

She might have seen me twice or thrice and I hope you haven’t revealed anything about me yet.

 

No! She once asked me about  the newly arrived family and I said I didn’t know . Reni said reminiscing her words. Fine! So we’ll meet tomorrow. Be prepared.

She left the house in deep solace vanishing mine away. For the rest of my day I was drowned into various counselling tips. After all, I was going to play Doctor Doctor with a 16 year old girl. That evening I was immersed into reading while I could see the frequent puzzled look in my husband’s face. He might have felt that I had gone crazy and needed to consult a psychiatrist. Never mind. That never  concerned me. He knew I am a book maniac and these could be the symptoms. The next day passed randomly for me. Nothing bothered me as I was getting ready to confront a small girl. I clipped my hair up and wore my thin framed brown specs. Suddenly I heard a small knock on my door. I quickly opened it . It was Reni didi and her daughter. She wore a black t-shirt,bluish black Jeans ,thick framed specs,fair and smart. I welcomed them in. After offering them a cup of tea, I asked her to come-in to my room while I beckoned  Reni didi to stay there. I sat down facing her. We were distanced by a small table.

So, Your name is Nidhi.Right? I asked her

Nope! Kiran. That’s ma name. Nidhi is my pet name.

Okay! So what should I call you?

Your wish. She smiled. Are you a counsellor?

Although the question itched my throat, my reply was stern and straight.

Yes! I do feel I am a counsellor right now. YOU ARE WHAT YOU FEEL YOU ARE.

Means? She was bit confused this time.

You will come to know what I meant but before that why do you want to see a counsellor? Talk to me. Let me listen to you. I patiently waited for her speech with a constant smile on my face.

 

It’s like …I don’t know ,but I get angry. I don’t know..I get angry for no reason. I don’t know how to explain it . I feel so restless and if someone pokes me I go mad. But then I do feel I am out of control. I lose myself sometimes.

She paused and stared at me squeezing her eyebrows causing wrinkles on her forehead.. I started to speak.

Nidhi darling. I can understand your feelings. Let me ask you few questions. Have you ever felt that it’s a necessity to control your temper?

Yes! Everytime. I end up crying when I realise I must control it.

Let me tell you  something. You could never control your temper. Either you understand it or you let go of it. I’ll make it clear. You have  got an understanding mother and so you are blessed. You have a space to open up yourself. But if you find it uncomfortable you must have the patience to analyse the reason. Why do I feel angry? Your mind goes blank. You don’t know the reason. Ask yourself. Why am I angry for no reason? Again you have no answer. See yourself in the mirror. Why am I angry for no reason? Ask her. If she doesn’t reply, if she stares at you then you have no choice. Let Go. That doesn’t serve you. That isn’t you. You are a smart little girl. So next time when you feel angry,just talk to yourself. Ask yourself. Know yourself. You are angry only when you feel you are angry.

 

Nice! She smiled. I have to be patient enough to know my anger. Right ?

Yes! I smiled with a satisfaction.

Let me try it now. She got up and walked out followed by me.

 

A week later I happened to meet Reni and to my excitement she complimented me for helping her daughter. I had the least hope of that attempt becoming a success and it has. I wanted to meet her and tell her that I am not a counsellor. I wanted to tell her that it’s not my counselling that changed her. It’s the swearing of her mind that it would change if she had consulted a counsellor. I wanted to tell her that I was also a short-tempered girl and I  vanquished my anger the moment I realised it. I wanted to reveal it to her that she was never counselled by me. She was counselled by her conscience.

 

Pick Yourself Up

Almost one-third of an hour had passed while I was waiting for  priyanka. I could see her parking her pink zest and speeding towards me. She aggressively pushed opened the glass door of the coffee restaurant and smiled at me. I sharply stared at her as she settled herself on one of those chairs opposite me.

“ Am I late?” she inquired intentionally.

“You said five and now it’s 5:30pm”.

I stretched my hand towards her so that she could see my watch. We had a good couple of minutes together gossiping and having coffee. She mentioned that her husband Sham was desperate yesterday after his office. His behaviour was extremely arrogant  and she stood helpless. He works in a reputed IT firm as a programmer.He  loved his profession  because of high salary and awesome profile but he was never satisfied with his work. He always feels he is the dumbest employee in his office. Alas!  This was not her first complaint. She also informed about the medical admission of her sister-in-law and the rate of pride she had been feeling since she heard this news.After a couple of minutes of giggles, gossips and complaints flavoured with a cup of coffee we finally exited the premise after the payment. I unparked my red Fascino when my phone vibrated. I halted a moment to check out. It was my brother’s message. I waved off “see you tomorrow priya” and glanced at his message.

“Hi ! How are you chechi (sister)?

“Fine! How was your class?” I replied ,dumped my phone inside and swiftly moved.It was a short ride back to my home. I removed my sandals and unlocked the door and randomly  placed my stuffs  as I was focussing on his message.

“  I am not playing anymore. I am unable. I don’t have talent.”

“ Which Game?” I asked eagerly

“ All!”

He  seemed not in good mood . I had to callhim finally.

“I have been playing volleyball since two years and still I am not good in it. Those senior brothers play well. Why is it then impossible for me? I feel ashamed of myself. I am not going to play. I stopped.”

His throat struggled as he spitted out his problem continuously .I sat there spell bound. His speech reminisced me of that particular day when I drove a car outside our house compound for the first time. I used to ride it inside and that was the first time I was compelled to take out. A stranger version of fear tangled with my nervous system. I was told to circle a particular premise double the twice.Although I knew how to ride, something constantly had been disturbing me. I stepped out feeling useless after the ride. I am not driving a car anymore. I promised to me. Fear turned to de-motivation which in turn transformed to anger and frustration.

“You pushed yourself down.”

My brother attempted to make me understand. He had that confidence in his smile.

“It’s your first ride on road and you atleast  did four circles. You will be a great rider within few months.”

“No ! I am such an useless creature. I have no talent even in driving a car.” I argued.

Nevertheless  he kept up with his statement. He forced me to be optimistic. At Least I drove four circles and that was more than fine.The same young man complained that he is useless  in sports just because HE Feels he is not good in volleyball.

                 We, human beings possess an inborn talent in advising but lack this talent in implementing it ourselves. He is good in it. I am not. I am useless, I feel like hell, I feel like I am dumb. Well! If you say so, you are. Why don’t we think the other way?At Least  I am coding, at least I am playing, at least I am attempting. There are puppets out there  who never even try, who never even think about it.Each of our brain is unique and precious. Don’t force your brain to act like his brain. That is impossible for her. That’s not her way.That’s not your way. You have your own style of doing things. Our brain, she needs her own time and space. Give her sufficient space and time to work things out. Just allow yourself to be you. We lack in something while we outstand in something else. We are never perfect and that is totally fine. We are imperfect in our own ways. We are unique in our imperfections. We just have to accept it. Have you come across a quote which says  “Imperfection is beautiful”?. Being imperfect is being ourselves. You would never push yourself down until you permit yourself to. So try, try picking yourself up even when the world drowns you underneath.

Writing Moments

I laid back against the cream wall and  pulled out my brownish blanket. The cool breeze made the atmosphere inside the home so pleasant. I picked up the phone and unlocked it. Sometimes I go for Evernote but to count the words I use google doc. I opened one of the chapters of the book I am currently working on. I began to type. The moment I did type, words poured out frequently making me forget the world I had been. A new world with new characters arose. I could sense a feeling of ecstasy. The world which I created, the characters I formed. Without noticing the least of the noise outside , I typed continuously. I loved her (main character). Her name is Gauri. She had been going through lots of pain. Still she smiled and made others smile.

Suddenly something reminisced me of my dream. We were chased and attacked by big hens and roosters. All I could view was just chasing of roosters. It was a scary dream. How on earth could a rooster chase a human. Will it happen in future? Afterall it was just a dream. I slept for around an hour and a half because I wake up at 4:30 every morning. After all the kitchen works and seeing off my husband to office I have my breakfast done. I feel it would be better that I have a nap to stimulate my creative brain to write.

Then again I checked my word count. I find it difficult to attain the task of writing 500 words because nothing strikes me. I need to write but I go blank today . How does a person write meaningful words? Does it need travelling and experiencing new things? Yes , may be. Today I have to remind him to wash his bike. The bike looks trendy and has its unique style. Bajaj v15 shines in reddish black color. I love him as much as I love our fascino but not as much as our pleasure. Pleasure has always been a pleasure giver.

I checked for wordcount the 2nd time. Still ought to write more. But I have gone blank now. My kitchen still remains messy after a busy dawn and I have got to work on it. Well! Cleaning works are done on afternoons after I have my lunch. Then suddenly the face of my mother popped up. I had called her this morning. But she was busy sending off my brother to school. When I called up he was in the bathroom. It seems I should call her again. Then again something popped again. What might she be doing there? Sleeping?? May be or may not be. The wind plays with my window glass now. Hope it doesn’t break.I could hear the strange voice of strong wind moving past each apartment.

This time when I checked the wordcount it showed 470. Why is it difficult for me to write 500 words. I had personally restarted this 500 words challenge. Yesterday I couldn’t accomplish it. I stopped with around 475 words. Today  somehow I managed to write 500 words. My plan is at least to write a chapter today. I have got a book to read. Agatha christie’s “ And then there were none.”

Travelling:A Stimulator to my Passion

Another week comprising those stressful days,tensed hours and deadlines leading to nightmares have passed away. The mind needs to be refreshed. The brain battery has been drained out. It needs to be charged. Suddenly the cool breeze slapped my face through the reddish black  helmet causing a sudden blink of my eyes minimising its focal length.The hair fringes danced with the wind. This ride in my red fascino is awesome. The zig-zag mountainous road,Huge rubber trees on either side, Tea shops, Grocery shops, Hotels, Restaurants, everything passed away confronting my eyes. Yes! I have been travelling since morning 6 am today. A feeling of ecstasy crawled into my mind and my heart giggled stimulating a wide smile on my face. I took a deep breath. I could feel solace entangling with euphoria. It’s time to break my fast. The restaurant looked simple but neat. I met strangers there. Each one had unique stories to share. A lady who sells flower compelled me to buy. Didi (sister)! Please have a piece and offer it to Goddess Saraswathi. I had no intention to buy it untill I saw a girl child beside her. She looked cute although she wore a dirty attire. I gave her the required amount. On the way I saw the beautiful saraswati temple. I offered my prayer and continued my Journey.
                     Well! Travelling not only relaxes our mind but also teaches us a lot.  Travelling itself is an education. It improves our knowledge about new, unknown  places. It freshens our mind. It plays a crucial role in disseminating happiness within us. The term ‘Disseminating happiness’  reminds me of the trip I had from kanyakumari to Manali by train. Travelling alone is beautiful but with friends brings joy and adds fun to it. The strange people with unique characters, vast cultures, different traditional beliefs could be experienced. The enthusiastic tourists guides of Taj Mahal, Red Fort and tomb of humayun and their unambiguous clear cut explanations enhance our knowledge about our culture.. Those sand colored buildings of Jaisalmer and ocean like Thar desert. The unforgettable camel ride and paneer recipes. Reading, to some extent ,improves the knowledge but travelling creates  memories too.  It broadens our perception towards life. Travelling is an excellent medicine for cerebrum, cerebellum and medulla oblongata . Travelling augments inspiration in us like it has done to me when I climbed up the huge rocks of ‘kurisumala’  along with my cousins amidst a huge mass of  theists despite being an agnostic. The struggle I had overcome to climb up had enhanced a spirit in me. Travelling has always been a prime motivator  to write, to become an author of a bestselling book. Writing has always been my passion and travelling has always been a stimulator to work on it.

Perception: A Night Journey

I slowly opened my eyes as I felt the sudden halt of the bus in which I had boarded yesterday night at around quater past nine accompanied by my mother-in-law and her co-sister. The bus stopped in a petrol bunk. Unfastening the front zip of my blackish handbag I pulled out my phone. The lockscreen showed swipe to unlock. It was half past four. The man whom I personally referred to as the conductor of the bus informed us to refresh ourselves. My fretful eyes  searched for a board named Toilet.My mother-in-law enquired if I had the urge to go.

Is that a question amma? I jumped up.

Both of them followed me as I hurried in. After two to three minutes I came out with a feeling of satisfaction. It’s a common nature of human beings to get it done after seven long hours of dreamless sleep. I approached the mirror which is as dirty as the mirror in any public toilet.Well! Atleast I could have a vague glance of my face.

Hold it. Let me go now.

My urge had transferred to my mother and so she dumped my handbag forcibly on my left shoulder and hurried in. Aunty had already gone to the bus. I peeped out and she beckoned me to come fast. Suddenly I noticed two people who seemed to be an young couple, standing at the doorway of male toilet.

Be quick. I will inform you when the bus starts.

The husband got in while the wife waited outside.Did I eavesdrop a couple’s conversation? Nevertheless, I peeped out to have a quick glance on her. She was well dressed in blue Jeans and white shirt,long silky hair left untied. The cool breeze danced with her fringes each time she tried to adjust it behind  her ear.

Hurry dear! Help me pin my saree. It’s in mess.

That was my mother again.As we swiftly walked  towards the bus I noticed the young lady  in front of our bus.She had been frequently checking her phone.  My mother climbed in and I followed giving a sharp stare at the lady.After around five minutes, the bus trundled compelling me to settle on my bed. To be more precise,we had boarded on a sleeper bus which is haplessly inapt for scenary lovers like me. Luckily it was a night travel. However I wasn’t feeling sleepy after refreshment.

Are you going to stay awake? Still a lot more distance to go.

My mother asked pleasingly.

Yes amma! I don’t feel like sleeping.
Good! So you stay awake and pull me up when Hosur comes…

She had already fallen asleep while the bus continued to accelerate. Suddenly

Stop the bus! Stop please! He is not here.
It was a helpless tone of an young lady.She screamed waking up three-fourth of the passengers obviously excluding my mother. I had no idea about the situation. I somehow  attempted to have a look, through the glass window as the lady  spoke to the driver. She wore a sky blue coloured kurti and white skirt. She had a long hair plated neatly rested on her left shoulder. I knew her. I had seen her with her husband in front of the male toilet.

Sir! I was asleep when my husband got down the bus. I didn’t know ,untill I woke up to find him missing.

I was bewildered  on hearing those words. Why on earth was she faking?Why did she change her dress?She looked modern and trendy there, but then she changed herself to a traditional girl.The conductor-man too had seen her awake.why wasn’t he responding? This situation deeply bothered me.Is there any drama played by the conductor and the lady? Did she deliberately leave her husband? My inner self irritated me with ample questions .The man requested the driver to wait untill they return. I stared at them curiously as they faded away.It was 6:00 am when I woke up the next time. I might have dozed off for an hour.  The beautiful scenary of yellowish orange sky mesmerized me as it prompted my mind to reflect the reason behind this journey. I started blushing for some reasons and suddenly my phone rang. It was my husband. The call was enthusiastically attended.

Hello! Goodmorning!
The blush on my face persisted when he replied.

Reached Hosur?  Not yet. I responded.
Where are you now?
Who knows! I see  only mountains and bushes.
Ok! Inform me when Hosur comes.He hung the call up.

The bushes which are linearly planted splits the road into two. My mother-in-law woke up and asked whether it was her son who called.

Yes amma! He said to inform when Hosur comes.

Hosur from my reading knowledge is an Industrial town and a municipality in Krishnagiri district in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu. It is a gateway to Karnataka from TamilNadu and has become a satellite town of Bangalore. Two hours had passed already when we crossed the city of Hosur finally. Passengers started getting down on their respective stops. My mother reminded me often that we were going to get down at ShantiNagar which is the final stop as mentioned by my husband. Yes!Yes! Although I knew the place, I had to respond to her, each time she reminded me inorder to attain peace to her innocent conscious self. Finally our destiny had reached. My aunt jumped up and  mother followed her. I gently grabbed my stuffs to get down. I could see him awaiting us. A cool feeling of ecstasy giggled inside my heart. I finally met him after a month.It was a month ago that I had been married to him. He had to come back immediately due to various personal reasons..

Hii! How was the Journey? He interfered my thoughts.
Great!  I replied.
Hurry up! Take your bag. There awaits our taxi.

I turned back to pick  my luggage and happened to see her again. The lady whose husband had been missing, the lady who lied to the driver that she was asleep, the lady who  stood in front of the male toilet. This time she wore the old attire, white shirt and blue jeans.She walked towards  the same conductor man who had accompanied her to find her missing husband. I stood there in front of the busy Shantinagar bus-stop squeezing my eyes.The young lady then had a conversation with him. I watched her speak to him so gratefully

.Didi (sister)! She yelled out staring at the bus door.
Come help me with this bag yaar! She ordered.

It took a moment or two for my puzzled mind  to realise that her so called didi was the lady in blue kurti and white skirt. They were identical twins. She was followed by her husband. The whole situation rewound in my mind . The husband and his wife’s twin sister got out for refreshment and they missed the bus. The wife woke up to see them missing. So she called out for help. The cognizance of the whole incident sparkled a smile on my face.

Aren’t you coming? My mother-law called out.

I picked up my luggage and walked forward. A bizzare feeling of solace entangled in me as I walked towards the taxi. I was relieved because she didn’t lie, she did nothing wrong.she didn’t even fake. Everything was nothing else but just my Perception.

Drizzles of Ecstasy

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I could hear the periodic bang  on those sheets in my terrace as I opened my eyes to see the pelting of rain through my grilled window. I felt the happiness gliding up to my lips  begetting a smile on my face. I stepped down and my each foot felt the coldness disseminating all over. I walked to the washroom and as I opened the pipe I could feel the “to-be freezing” kind of water flowing down. My heart giggled. I smiled more and this time showing my teeth. After having brushed I walked to the kitchen and poured a cup of hot, still evaporating tea and walked towards the sit-out. I saw my dad and mom enjoying the rain with a cup of tea. I sat right beside my dad. ” Nice climate today.” He sighed after a zip. I agreed with a nod. The pelting of rain persisted  for hours and hours. The little kitty came running to us. She got drenched and so she curled into my attire. The roosters and hens looked like soaked chickens. I walked towards the back side of my house and the backyard had already been flooded. The vegetable sellers and travellers, even trespassers  retreated away from  showers to the roadside shops and platforms. After hours of rain,the pouring down has been deferred. My brother partially unlike me loved wetting himself and so he rushed out in great ecstasy. He expressed his euphoria bicycling, which is his cup of tea. Well! “Everything has a good part and a bad part” . The reminiscence of this quote zoomed in my head  when I realised that my brother had slipped away from his bicycle hurting his elbow and my dad had to rush out to help him out. ” How could you go out and dare to play now ? Screamed out my mother .My brother felt guilty over his decision. I could see his face revealing the pain.Suddenly a cool breeze sprang up from somewhere.We could feel the gentle wind move past us swirling my hair around my head. It swept away his pain along,lighting up a smile on his face mutating the scene into a humorous one.