on a rainy walk...

I stepped out of the house and it was dark and windy. The summer was in full swing here; the wind was heavy as if someone was taking panting hot breaths. It was about 8pm local time. I looked at the desolate road, shinning under the amber or yellow street lights, some of the lights were covered by long leafy branches of trees growing on the dividers and they created such beautiful intricate designs of light and shadow. I couldn’t think which way to walk, but then thought of entering the park and walking around it. So, I started to walk slowly, as I took a couple of steps, I heard the thunder crash. It was going to rain.
I thought this was it, the feeling that was gripping my very soul, yet I could not cry or vent my anger, disappointment. There I was so helpless that all I could do was walk out of my house onto the road and start walking. Why are we made so brittle? Why do we break so fast? Why did I fall so fast, so hard? My heart seems to be broken into so many pieces I cannot imagine collecting them together, forget putting it back.
As I crossed the known roads, it started to drizzle. How apt, that the sky should shed all the tears that refuse to exit these eyes. As if I have turned stone cold. But grief and heartbreak had brought tears into the eyes of a cold alabaster statue. Why not me then?
Futile questions echoed through my empty mind. So I thought I should think about something else, and then I thought of you. And well what do you know it started to rain. I had read somewhere that I love to walk in the rain because I can cry. I guess the person who wrote that knew what she was speaking about. I actually distinctly remember that the writer was a female, strange?
Everything flashed before my mind’s eye, was I going to die, I thought morbidly. But no, to other thoughts now, it was liberating, walking in the downpour. The rain felt like sheets of water pouring over me. I don’t know how all the memories came to me and the hurt, the pain, the loss hurt my soul; send such a searing pain through me that I felt faint.
They say you can’t run away from your memories, but I could, and I ran, first it was a jog and then I picked up my pace. Running harder than I have ever run in my life. I remembered the first race I had run when I was in pre-school, I was so busy smiling at my mother and father in the stadium gallery that I came last. But I wasn’t upset. I did not know what it was to lose. I did not know what loss was. The second time I ran a race was a qualifying race for the sports day at school. I was in class 5. I started off well and then suddenly someone from my left dashed into me and I missed my putting falling to the ground. That was the end of my racing history. I was bitter and wanted justice. Then I did not know that if you fall down there is no re-race for you. You have lost. So I cried my tears with a wad of cotton soaked in dettol dabbing it on the superficial wound on my knee.
I never raced again. I had tried a balancing race once, I was in class 4 then, I had qualified for the final but at the very end during the final race my best friend lost her balance and trying to stop the marble from falling ended up toppling over me. I did not grudge her anything. I just hugged her a bit harder; out of sorrow or mutual lose. We had both lost. I don’t remember her saying sorry; I never even wanted an apology from her.
When I was in class 2 I had participated in a race called the ‘shoe and socks’ race, where you had to wear your shoes and sock and then race to the finish. I was better than most at this, especially with the socks, but on the final sports day, I fell ill and was home mopping over the lost prize. Strange we never knew what these prizes were. Never have I even heard of such prizes being better than anything but some chocolates or books, may be a medal or two.
But we ran and we participated.
It was tiring to run so hard so fast; I was losing my breath, finding it harder and harder to control my breathing. I slowed down and thought may be if I had a bicycle it would be nice to ride it in the rain. I had a bicycle ever since I was in class 1 but I never learnt it to ride it till I was in class 5. My dad would take me to the playground, and he would after while get exasperated with me, and we would go home, me in tears and him sweating and angry. It was a disaster. So much so that mom just forbade any more bicycle sessions. Till I was in class 5, a friendly neighbor seeing me struggle with the cycle and my dad screaming from the balcony, offered help.
With much practice and zero effect, I continued to labor with the cycle, till one day I was trying to balance the cycle without falling on the practice wheels, when I hit a lose stone, that jolted me but I kept paddling, after a little while when I stopped I fell. One of my practice wheels had turned out, and the moment I stopped expecting them to take effect, I fell. My neighbor ran in congratulating me for riding the cycle so well. Apparently I had ridden the cycle without realizing it. I rode around that cycle for many years, then after my class 10 we sold it off. I miss it.
As long as the balance wheels were there I didn’t know how to keep the balance, the moment they were gone I was able to ride. Strange, things that seem to be there to help you sometimes prove to be a hindrance!
The thoughts had brought me far, far away from the hurt and the pain, the loss and the gain…
Life teaches me so many lessons and so many that I forget come back to me when I least expect it. When someone trusts you, you should never break their trust. I wonder how many people believe that? Sometimes I cannot fathom the pain. Or the reason for it. Why does my heartache? What is so dear and precious that it’s loss drives me mad? I cannot find any definitive answer. Yet, I know something inside me hurts and aches, and yet I smile and talk and say good things. Why can I not just lie in bed and just not get up?
I drag myself out of the bed and go to office, a respite of some sorts, I guess, if I were left alone with my thoughts I would have become mad. I run from one corner of the room to the other, but the room has no corners for it is round, and I keep going round and round until I feel dizzy an sick, slowly things loss their shape and everything is a slushy mass. I collapse, and hit the hard asphalt. My lungs heaves trying to catch a breath, but try as hard as it might it cannot. Am I dying?
My eyes are closed and I wonder whether I am dreaming? But may be I am dreaming. But dreams are beautiful, why is this happening to me?
Why do we wish for such unattainable things? But why blame our wish/ no one told me that I could not love you. No one told me that I should not love you. No one said that I could never have you. Why do they not teach this in class? Shouldn’t they?
What is the use of such lessons that do not teach you how to deal with life? When is there a perfect love? Is there love at all? What we call love, does it really exist? If so then it is supposed to be the most beautiful of human emotions then why do not people understand? Is it a crime to love you? Why can’t I be happy? What is my fault? I have loved you more than anything else in my life and yet I am lying here empty handed and alone.
Is it fair? Is it? Is there a God/ if there be, then I ask you why? Why are you putting me through this? I want to be happy, is it all that much to ask for. You give people so much unasked for what about me? You are omni-potent, therefore you know, then why don’t you bring my love to me. Why are we not together? They say miracles do happen, then why can’t you make a miracle happen? Today, right now.
Why did I meet a person that I fell in love with and can’t have? If you see all and know all why did you let me fall in love? So many people fall in love and then fall out of it. So many relations end. But why can’t I stop loving/ why doesn’t this pain go away? It is becoming so difficult to breath now. May be I am dying. May be that’s what the end is. I will die, and then….
Nothing. Nothing. Cause I can’t find love here, how will I find love somewhere else. I will always be alone, and that is what my life will be, broken mirror with nothing, no image, no visage.

“ Excuse me? Are you all right? Did you fall down? Can I help you?”
No you can’t. No one can. I opened my eyes and then I saw someone standing near me looking at me perplexed. A smile traced my lips as I thought how funny I must look now, and a bright smile lighted up my face and I held a hand to get up. I could breath now. It was under control. It was awkward to start to explain, but what to explain?
“ Where do you live? Can I walk you to your house? Be careful the roads are slippery in the rain.”
“Thank you, that would be nice. I think I am lost.”
“ No problem, I know this place like the back of my hand.”
Who says miracles don’t happen? Sometimes you just got to be on the right road at the right time.
“So what’s your name?”