Many Rains Ago by Deboshree Bhattacharjee

deboshree bhattacharjee pandey“Look Mamma, a pearl! Trapped between the leaves!”

“Do you want to catch it?”
“Yes!”
Together, on tiptoe, they walked closer to the lemon tree in the courtyard. There, lying silent and sparkling was the raindrop. Hand in hand, her little palm cupped by Mamma’s confident fingers, they caught hold of the pearl. Only, it melted away into water as soon as it was touched.
“Haww! Why did that happen? I wanted to store it by the bedside.”
“How about we click a nice picture of all the raindrops in the tree? We can then store that by your bedside.”

She still had the picture. They had got Daddy to click it so it showed both of them. Mamma’s blue salwar kameez was the colour of the overcast sky, and her eyes were wide with delight at the sight of the numerous, shy little raindrops.

Mamma loved it when it rained at night. The two of them, cozy in their blanket, would listen to the pitter patter of raindrops outside. Their housecat would slink into the warmest and driest corner of the house. The bed-light would be quiet and reassuring as they read stories late into the night, long after the downpour had been replaced by a cool breeze, and the neighbourhood’s dogs had ventured out for a stroll. When she awoke the next morning, the bougainvillea by the window would be a vibrant pink. In fact, it would sometimes be brighter than the pink, polka-dotted umbrella she took to school.

Once, however, she had been particularly grumpy on a rainy afternoon. She had lost her English textbook, her favourite green sketch-pen had run out of ink just when she needed it to colour trees in Art, and a rain puddle had splashed her socks a nasty shade of brown.

Later that afternoon, dressed in dry clothes, they had gone to the local stationery. Mamma had bought her a new sketch-pen set – with three shades of green! The English book, interestingly, had turned up in in an abandoned compartment of her large bag. As they were walking back home, Mamma suddenly tugged at her hand. “Look up there!”

And there, for the first time, she saw all the colours in her sketch-pen set come alive. There was a huge archway in the sky, in a host of beautiful colours, stretching from one faraway place to another. It was a rainbow!
Today, several years older than she had been that rainy afternoon, she was no closer to the faraway places in the sky. All she knew was that somewhere, perhaps at the end of the rainbow, was Mamma. When rain came pouring down in massive raindrops, especially at night, she would curl up in her blanket. They would hunt for raindrops in her dreams. Mamma continued to shower her life with golden moments of delight, through memories, lessons, faith and strength. And even today, when she sat by the window with a cup of coffee, while it rained incessantly outside, Mamma would come sit by her. Her salwar kameez would still be the colour of the overcast sky.
Write an article, short story or poem on your experiences – your memories of drenching in the rain for the first time, your first rain-date, your inspirations/motivations from the rain and whatever else you like about it. Do include an occasional rainbow if you can, they’re important too! 
Be a part of our monsoon writing prompt #Raindropsonpaper.
 Take a slice in writing!

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