Raindez-vous

And it started raining. In all my 9 years in this flat, I've been the only one who opened the balcony doors while the whole world shut theirs. My balcony faces about 8 more of them. And never have I seen anyone even try staying out just to even feel rain. All of them scurry about to get all their dried clothes in and then shut their doors and themselves. Everytime I stood in my balcony, leaning out as far to try and hug the rain, I used to see my neighbours gawk or point out their fat accusing fingers at me, or nodding their heads the usual way, all from their closed barred windows. Jailed. And everytime, I used to pity them.
When I see people shying away from rain, treating it like an untouchable, it really amuses me. Even in the roads. Its dangerous to drive through heavy ones. Agreed. But detesting a downpour that is rare in a deep-frying-metropolitan-city, is criminal. With passing years, with more rains and more gawking, I was still the only one out with the rain. I stopped pitying them long time back, as I was now more than ever, possessive. Sole-lover perhaps. It purifies. Every single drop. You just need to close your eyes and feel each and every touch. Like an affair. When a drizzle, it gently teases. When a downpour, it hugs. When a heavy torrent, it roughens, beats. Now, standing over my balcony, (and dripping over my keyboard!), want to be one with the drops, falling over leaves, petals, wafted by the wind and finally splashing on earth. Li'l Johny can play later.