Vaishu in the rain again

She came to me last August like a well-preserved rose. She brought along a calmness feeling of a certain familiarity, probably from the memory she bore pressed against my favourite prose. We walked up and down every street our feet took us, sharing an umbrella, with her holding onto me for balance, and I, her every word. I was just laying on my sofa, flexing my feet and watching the ceiling fan, as Pradeep Kumar’s voice came wafting from the neighbours’. He is singing something about the love affair between the wind and the rain, and my mind is gently galloping towards the aroma of lemon tea and a single mint leaf from the corner shop, her fingers clasping the glass tightly for warmth while we waited for the downpour to subside. Pradeep was on the radio station there as well, making my mind involuntarily register certain words against her name - ஆசை, புல்வெளி, பனித்துளி.. As I walk over to the balcony, I can hear the song louder and smell the moisture hanging in the air, somehow bridging the few hundred kilometres between my hands and her face. In every gust of wind, drizzle of rain, and the whole expanse of soil they both surrender to, is a trail that leads all my senses straight into her arms - அவளே காற்று, அவளே மழை, அவளே அனைத்தும் இறுதியில் சேரும் பூமி. ** You might enjoy looking at the pictures while listening to this number. Hit play. :)