In the North-eastern state, where I hail from, along with the summer heat that threatens to roast us into hot cakes, advents the occasional spells of rain that helps cool down and brings a sigh of relief from people’s mouth. And mine and most people’s favorite childhood memory would perhaps be; dancing under the rain.
As the first spell of rain falls on the dry, dust coated terrain after the dry winter months, the sweet smell of wet soil wafts through the air. I have always found it an extremely intoxicating smell. It bewitched my mind when I was a small child and before, I knew it, I was on the terrace, jumping and twirling under the rain. It naturally left me soaked to the bone. But, the euphoria that created in my heart due to the falling rain drops on my skin could not stop me from smiling in glee. However, this beautiful memory was always marred by the cold that followed and my mother’s scoldings. But, that in itself creates yet another priceless memory.
Sometimes, in the month of March, when it is still a little chilly at night, hailstorms occur. The sound of these balls of ice hitting the terrace and aluminum roof created a sense of lingering fear and yet, excitement in my heart. I was always eager to catch one of these balls of hail and after washing it put it right into my mouth. The coolness of the ice numbed my tongue and mouth, to the point of pain, but that never prevented me from doing it over and over again. Of course, this was done in absolute secrecy. If I was ever caught by my mother eating a piece of hail, I would have never heard the end of it.
These are some irreplaceable, priceless memories that makes me nostalgic every time it rains. Truly, those days of my childhood were akin to the rain. They came gloriously, but we could hold never hold either in our hands and they escaped far away from our grasp, leaving only lingering memories behind. The memories of dancing under the rain.