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Asha stepped out into the rain, letting the drops hit her face. The sensation was immediate, a coolness that spread across her skin, refreshing and cleansing. She could feel the tension of the past week—the hurried deadlines, the phone calls, the busy schedules—melt away with every step she took into the downpour. Her saree clung to her, but she didn’t care. There was a freedom in it, in the way the rain allowed her to just be. No expectations, no worries, just the present moment.
She walked down the narrow lane that led to the market, her sandals squishing in the wet mud. The rain had turned the streets into little rivers, the water flowing steadily along the sides, carrying with it leaves and small twigs. Vendors had covered their stalls with plastic sheets, but they too seemed to have slowed down, their usual cries of “fresh vegetables” and “best prices” softened under the rain’s lullaby.
At the corner of the street, she stopped by the chaiwala, a small, cozy tea stall with the sweet scent of boiling tea leaves and ginger wafting through the air. There, a small group of people had gathered, their umbrellas discarded in favor of the makeshift tin roof that offered them shelter. The chaiwala, Ramu, smiled when he saw her. He handed her a cup without her needing to ask, the steam rising from the glass cutting through the cool, moist air.
“Beautiful weather, isn’t it?” Ramu said, his eyes twinkling.
Asha smiled, taking a sip of the hot tea. “It feels like the world is taking a pause,” she replied softly, her voice almost lost in the rain’s murmur.
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the raindrops create ripples in the puddles, the sound of the rain blending with the hiss of the stove as more tea was brewed. Asha felt a warmth spread through her, not just from the tea, but from the simple joy of the moment—this shared appreciation of life’s little pleasures.
As she finished her tea and handed the cup back, she noticed the rain had begun to lighten, the once heavy downpour now a soft drizzle, like a final farewell before the sun broke through the clouds. The children were still playing, their laughter echoing down the street, while the adults had resumed their daily routines, albeit at a slower, more mindful pace. The world seemed to breathe in unison, refreshed and renewed.
Asha turned and began to walk back home, her heart full. The rain had done what it always did—it had washed away the dust, both from the earth and from her spirit. There was something timeless about it, the way it connected people, from the children playing in the streets to the elderly man sipping tea on his porch, to the strangers gathered at a chai stall, all brought together by nature’s gentle touch.
As she stepped back into her house, her wet feet leaving faint prints on the floor, Asha couldn’t help but smile. Rainy days, she thought, are not just about the rain itself, but about the way it makes everything around it pause, slow down, and simply feel.
And sometimes, that’s all we need—a reminder to breathe, to listen, and to be present in the moment, just like the rain.(END,)
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati , Assam , India
05/10/2024
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