Upon us all, a little rain must fall...
I'm back with a blog post after a short hiatus. Work kept me occupied or maybe it did not. But this place has been barren for a long time now.
We have been waiting for the rains for quite sometime in Mumbai. The summer which was welcomed with open arms soon became a menace due to the scorching heat and high humidity leading the government to take alarming steps towards curbing usage of water, adding to our "sticky" woes. Rains usually arrive in Mumbai by June 1. This time the calendar turned to 18th June and yet there was no rainfall in sight. Until the 19th Of course.
When the clouds gathered above and the skies poured down. The hills turned green and everything cooled down. I did get wet in the first rains It's customary,isn't it? It's beautiful. It's enriching and delightful. Water pouring down your window sill. The smell of the earth in the first rains. Everything washes down- the roads, the trees, the birds. It's almost purifying. A cup of hot tea. And the cool breeze blowing against your face. Nothing can beat the enchantment. And yes, it has changed everyone's moods. And the topic of small talk. Everyone is happy.
Which reminds me of a small anecdote, I have always wished to share. When I was in San Francisco earlier this year, I took an Uber ride to meet a friend. Yes, it was my first time in the city and I cannot begin to explain how integral Uber is to USA for their lack of any other 'well connected' public transport. One thing I particularly loved about my rides was, about how chatty the Uber drivers would get and initiate small conversations especially about their own life stories and experiences. None of the drivers I encountered on my trip were natives and hence, had stories from other lands as well. On one particular occasion I met a driver who was from Afghanistan. He was extremely sweet and cordial and had been living in USA for a really long time now. He spoke about how sad he was of the current situation in his country and also how he was so well adjusted to the american lifestyle now. He obviously found the prospect of going back to his nation-unimaginable and resorting to the old life-difficult.
But there was one thing he definitely missed. He told me he misses the rains back home. He said, "You know when it used to rain back home, we would be so ecstatic. We would run out in the streets, embrace the downpour with joy, jump into puddles. It was a different feeling. When it rains here, people just want to hold their jackets closer to their chests and sit inside their homes. It's not welcome or joyous here.The rains here are unhappy, brutal and cold."
And at that moment, I had a feeling of homesickness. And nostalgia. I could completely understand what he was trying to say. I did not even belong to his nation. But, I knew what he described felt like home.
And it also made me realize that everywhere we go people feel the same, love the same and need the same. Clearly the borders or geographies or color are just an outer show. And love and earnestness is all you need to look beyond and break the stereotypes. True globalization is meeting another just like he/she is your own kin and not the economic terms of exchanging goods with those lines still drawn.
Maybe it's the rains doing this talking.
The rains after all, signify abundance and glory. Or maybe, it signifies destruction and hate. Or maybe, it is just formless- taking the shape of whatever it falls on. Yeah, it could probably be anything. But I do believe (like Led Zepelin would sing it) that upon us all, a little rain must fall.
It's just a little rain.Oh, yeah.
-Merci.
We have been waiting for the rains for quite sometime in Mumbai. The summer which was welcomed with open arms soon became a menace due to the scorching heat and high humidity leading the government to take alarming steps towards curbing usage of water, adding to our "sticky" woes. Rains usually arrive in Mumbai by June 1. This time the calendar turned to 18th June and yet there was no rainfall in sight. Until the 19th Of course.
When the clouds gathered above and the skies poured down. The hills turned green and everything cooled down. I did get wet in the first rains It's customary,isn't it? It's beautiful. It's enriching and delightful. Water pouring down your window sill. The smell of the earth in the first rains. Everything washes down- the roads, the trees, the birds. It's almost purifying. A cup of hot tea. And the cool breeze blowing against your face. Nothing can beat the enchantment. And yes, it has changed everyone's moods. And the topic of small talk. Everyone is happy.
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Which reminds me of a small anecdote, I have always wished to share. When I was in San Francisco earlier this year, I took an Uber ride to meet a friend. Yes, it was my first time in the city and I cannot begin to explain how integral Uber is to USA for their lack of any other 'well connected' public transport. One thing I particularly loved about my rides was, about how chatty the Uber drivers would get and initiate small conversations especially about their own life stories and experiences. None of the drivers I encountered on my trip were natives and hence, had stories from other lands as well. On one particular occasion I met a driver who was from Afghanistan. He was extremely sweet and cordial and had been living in USA for a really long time now. He spoke about how sad he was of the current situation in his country and also how he was so well adjusted to the american lifestyle now. He obviously found the prospect of going back to his nation-unimaginable and resorting to the old life-difficult.
But there was one thing he definitely missed. He told me he misses the rains back home. He said, "You know when it used to rain back home, we would be so ecstatic. We would run out in the streets, embrace the downpour with joy, jump into puddles. It was a different feeling. When it rains here, people just want to hold their jackets closer to their chests and sit inside their homes. It's not welcome or joyous here.The rains here are unhappy, brutal and cold."
And at that moment, I had a feeling of homesickness. And nostalgia. I could completely understand what he was trying to say. I did not even belong to his nation. But, I knew what he described felt like home.
And it also made me realize that everywhere we go people feel the same, love the same and need the same. Clearly the borders or geographies or color are just an outer show. And love and earnestness is all you need to look beyond and break the stereotypes. True globalization is meeting another just like he/she is your own kin and not the economic terms of exchanging goods with those lines still drawn.
Maybe it's the rains doing this talking.
The rains after all, signify abundance and glory. Or maybe, it signifies destruction and hate. Or maybe, it is just formless- taking the shape of whatever it falls on. Yeah, it could probably be anything. But I do believe (like Led Zepelin would sing it) that upon us all, a little rain must fall.
It's just a little rain.Oh, yeah.
-Merci.
Very very good
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