Rain Rain come again

“Finally"

Meera sighed to herself. She finished her day's work and switched off her computer. A decent pay gave her the stability to be in the middle class, something she cherished reluctantly. Giving herself a nice stretch she looked around. Hours had passed. The sun had almost set. A semi-lit room filled up with cold gush of breeze, filled her up with a melancholic pleasure. A bitter sweet work from home.

"Time to make dinner.." She sighed to herself again, sixth time in an hour.

Catching a sight of herself in the mirror, she tucked her loose hair gently behind her ear. Some outside stray light brightening up half her face. Confused whether she was looking pretty or not, she often wondered whether to trust the mirror or the camera or the comments on her Instagram post.

Deciding to get out of depression without medication was a tough. Almost as tough as finding a needle in a stack of hay. A straight A student to an inattentive, semi-creative back bencher. Her contradiction stopped her from making her life better. Struggling to compete with her past self, she was stuck in a cycle. 

 She missed her train of thoughts. She boarded this train without a ticket every day. Getting down at the platform of reality, she would snap back with an anxiety attack. The world in her head and reality had a rift. She knew she had to do something about it but didn't know what.

 It had slowly began to rain just when someone played 'Rim Jhim Gire Saawan' on an old radio. One of her favourite songs. An escape from reality. Singing to the tune, she left her house with an umbrella. The song slowly faded as she reached the hallway, she felt alone. Standing at the entrance, she looked at the sky. The rain was pouring down heavily now. Street lights became blurred. Like hundreds of foggy suns in the sky. The patter of rain felt like thousand people talking to her at the same time. She placed her hand on her ears. She reminded herself of an article. Earlier today she had read about a girl who went blind in her 20's and in a few years forgotten how the rain looked like. Meera wondered about the possibility.

" Atleast I can see it" She sighed again. Taking a nice long look at the dark clouds, she clasped her umbrella and stepped out of the building.

Meera missed her village. The moist soil and it's fragrance. Puddled green fields swaying in the winds. Muddy roads with short streams. Clean roofs. Fog on the hills. A different rain? Indeed she felt the rains had its own language and she understood it. It cleansed her mind. She felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes of her past.

It was different in the city though. Looking at rain now gave the same feeling as looking at a plain white bread. Plain. Boring. White. Thinking of which she had eaten bread all month. With increasing work load that is all she could spare time for. Reducing her commute time but increasing her work. The bread wasn't fond of her either, she had a stomach ache lately after eating a supposedly stale one. She wanted to prepare three course meals but failed miserably, often ending up scrolling Instagram for hours. The only feed that fed her for a while.

She reached the retail store. Opening the door, she pulled and shook her umbrella. She was about to keep it in the stand when two kids rushed her by. A weird stench followed them. The boy wore a small trouser torn on the side while the girl was in a maxi dress. Hurriedly looking at the counter, they grabbed a packed of 'cream bell'. A bread filled with fresh cream. The one she had flashback of. With the same hurry, they rushed towards the billing counter. The cashier groaned and asked for money as they happily handed him the exact change. But in pennies. They looked at the bread as if it was a piece of gold. Quarreling over who will eat it first, soon they left. Meera kept looking at the whole scenario. Stunned. The bread that she was fed up with was the same bread that gave these kids happiness. Plain. White. Boring bread.

A feeling struck inside her, difficult to name. But she stood still looking at the counter. She realised something.

Disguised as anxiety, it was gratitude. She understood it. It was soon followed by joy. Joy, the simplest form of gratitude. Months to realise such a simple feeling ? Maybe life wasn't as complicated as she thought it to be.

She thought that gratitude goes hand in hand with joy. Often depending on each other.

Keeping this feeling alive she carried it home to put it safely in her memory palace. As she laid on her bed and had some food for thought. A palace in her head full of such little incidents. A fun ritual. Invoking the happiest memories often felt like fighting a Death Eater from Harry Potter. She loved to imagine herself as a character in the movie.

A month passed by. 

Google was her friend as she searched about her deepest feelings. She had tried everything to make her calm and peaceful. Yoga, practised gratefulness, pulled time aside for exercise, set up a simple routine and worked on. This time she kept going. Discipline overtook motivation. Almost as if trying to cook khichdi with a candle. 

She became better at observing situations that she didn't care about before. Still confused and anxious but kept going. The storm within her was more profound than the one outside her window.

Waited for a month to buy bread this time. Almost afraid of another life lesson she might not understand. She stepped outside in the rain. A sense of calm swept across as he hurried past the road inside the store. She looked at the bread and this time it reminded her of the rains in her village. She felt she was on the right path. The world didn't know and she didn't tell anyone why she was smiling so much. 

It stopped raining. It had told her what it wanted to. 

And she understood.