The morning rain, the evening rain....!!!

Temperamental, they are, aren't they, the Rains; wet they would someone deep down while leave others high and dry. When millions go cloth-less with frenzied excitement seeing the first cloud hover, from million others it(rain) mericilessly takes away the only piece of clothing they have had for ages.When the firmament opens up in all its splendour to wet down the essence of earth, it is blissfully unaware of what would come back. Brickbats and boquets bundled together is what they get back. That's how it's been for them, almost always. Fate, all one can say!!! It would be too gory a tale to delve deeper...let it be a story untold.

The recent spurt of non-seasonal rains in Delhi have hit me hard, though with a stupid question. Is there a difference between an "evening" shower and a "morning" drizzle. A year back, and I would have said rains are always fun, what morning, what evening. I do want to say that now as well, but can I, with the same conviction. Perhaps not. Actually not.

The rain is beating down hard and strong in the late evening and there I stand in my balcony with my colleague, sipping some hot coffee. Leaning against the wall, we talk of all the good times, remembering all the beautiful seasons we spent together in our college days. Hours later we retreat back to our bed, to be up in time for office next morning and with child like innocence he says, "Alok, let's keep all the windows and the door open, it is such a beautiful weather." I am only too willing to accept. An "aah" erupts and rainy dreams take us over.

Mornings never came before 9 and 9 was never too early on office days. And it is raining still. "Hey, Bhagwan, even the raincoats haven't dried up" I scream and the rains, it is raining as if it were never to stop. The is perhaps the agony of being rain. No natural phenomenon ever elicited such juxtaposed emotions and such widely varied one at that. If in the evening those tiny inncouous droplets of water falling off the leaves took us on a ride to the sylvan greens of our college campus, they grow monsterous by the morning clogging roads and overflowing the sewage. Negotiating a heavly clogged stretch with a wide frown on my face, I asked, "How would Delhi ever become a world class city?" Not at least with rains playing havoc in the "morning".

The evening air seems all pleasant and soothing. Intoxicated by the presence of water droplets in their fold, it blows ubridled, caressing the trees and temple-tops on its way to its unison with the clouds. Swing it plays to the tightly held hands of two lovers in tow enjoying their first rain of togetherness. Come morning and the breeze has all gone heavy and dustful hitting hard against your raincoats and still searching for something more non-plastic to wet. These morning rains, they never did anyone any good, did they?

There can hardly be few things more fulfilling than savouring the enchating aroma emanting from the soil in the evening. It fills up ur senses with contenment, leaving an indelible mark on your heart. The morning rain leaves a mark too, of a different kind though, on ur shoes, ur clothers as u make ur way through the dirty, stinking rivulents left as a testimony; A testimony to the wonderful time the "evening" rain had brought about; A testimony to the ill-designs of the morning rain; A testimony to my ever so increasing hatred for the morning rain..............!!!!

Dream Debut

Cricket's been just a game for me, but Sachin, He's all I have gained by wasting those innumerable hrs in front of TV, and perhaps many more singing his praises. The kind of satisfaction I get when he reaches a milestone can be compared to any I have had at my own achievements. Nothing more would I want out of cricket if I get to get a glimpse of His majestic self in flesh and blood.

A non-descript day brought with itself an irresistible pass to fulfillment of a long lost desire. A desire, which had always bred itself in the corner of my heart without ever forcing itself to the fore. A desire, which I knew would get fulfilled someday, but that the Day had come calling on me so suddenly utterly swept me off my feet. A stroke of luck all I can say. This opportunity had fallen from heaven directly into my lap. Only a fool would have let that go. And when it comes to Cricket, I am no fool. Thanks to Abhinav, off I was with four colleagues(Akash, Chaya, Sandip and Namrata) to watch a D/N IPL encounter between Royal Challengers, Bangalore and Delhi DareDevils, the debut match for me. The kind of excitement it brought along on our faces was something words cannot express. It was a fairytale for me. And the princess awaited me. To meet the Princess, the Prince had to cross “the seven seas”. We too had to. A sea, it literally was, of people, all waiting to get their share of the Princess. Pushing and shoving would not deter us nor would the canes of security personnel. Time was running out and the match could get underway any moment. Pre-match events were already nearing completion. Colorful confetti flowing all around, sparkling crackers brightening up the sky, deafening music flowing from all over the place and incessant huge roars coming from inside the stadium made us more aware of what we were missing. And there we were, stuck in a blind alley, standing in the middle of a non-ending serpentine queue, unaware of what fate held for us. A match or no-match. We were steadily losing hope. Things sped up, we do not how, as we inched closer to the main entry .We did manage finally, but not without great discomfort, in hindsight I should say. But then, if dreams materialized so easily, would they be worth their salt??? Through with the security check in a flash, flying, we were all inside the stadium in a moment. Few stairs and there we were…….

It was a different world altogether. How was I to believe what stood in front of me? A world more pristine than any of my mundane thoughts could ever carve. It was all too perfect to be true. With unflustered gaze, I stood there filling in my ever-craving senses, but the visual splendors on exhibition were too many to be ingested in one go. To remain unfazed with what lay in front of me was beyond me. Beautifully lit stadium, outfield all bright and green, rocking Bhangra, cheerleaders, maverick fans screaming atop their voice, who would not love this sight???? I would be belying my true feelings, if I do not admit how mesmerizing and fulfilling the first glance was. There was this unabated surge of excitement oozing out which literally had my body and heart swaying and swirling. Dumbstruck we all were to speak and perhaps we all wanted to say the same thing as one could read out from our palpably excited faces.

I had been stumped before a ball could be bowled and so were my colleagues. How amazing it was to be with people all united by the passion they held for the game and equally intoxicated by the mirth and fervour it had brought along. It was a moment when I, of all the people I, was going to be a part of the history making. When people would ask me, did u see the match between Royal Challengers and Delhi Daredevils, how proud I would feel to say, I was there in the stadium itself watching it unfold. Suddenly it dawned on me that those watching live feeds, with all the comforts of their rooms, actually had a cast-off experience, being fed on things discarded by the stadium-spectators. After all the stadium-spectators had the unwritten right to first use. They, I thought, were mere passive spectators incapable of scripting a twist in the tale. And those present in the stadium, yelling despite their parched throat, could very well dictate the course of the match. I had heard of ‘standing ovation’ being given to players. It proved out to be so true, and why not when people would not rest their back even for a second for the entire duration. There can be endless arguments about which cricketer the world loves the most. I love Sachin, let there be no bones about it, come what may. But what do u have to say when for every shot a Dravid or a Kallis played, people merrily swayed and chanted Sachin’s name. What more would a die-hard Sachin fan want. Sachin….Sachin…Sachin, all one could hear. It started with our group leading the way but gradually caught with, arguably, the whole of East Stand. To be standing in a 10 meter proximity to an international cricketer is a celebrated achievement in its own right, so what if the player happened to be Wasim Jaffer. Wouldn’t have I fainted had it been Sachin? How dearly I wish it were Him, the little maestro.