~iota

I was packing all of my things to move out of my current house. While packing some items in the kitchen, I was thrown back to the days when four of us used to live here and work. One day to be exact, viz. the cleaning day. It was a warm day in Chennai and we saw the long-settled dust in the hallway. I'm not sure if it was an empty calendar or a sudden rise in motivation that made one among us, the responsible one we may call him, to put forth the idea of cleaning the apartment. Though skeptical at first, we finally decided to get to work. The day rushed by as four of us dusted and wiped, cleaned with water and then dried, every nook and corner of our home. It was an extremely tiring day, with all of us just wanting to sleep forever after it. However, when all was done, we were grateful that we did something productive. Now, this as such is not a great story- I agree if you felt that. However, what I really wanted to tell is an alternate story that rushed to my mind right after this...

Based on true events. I miss home. When I hear this statement being made by the people around me, the story usually ends (or sometimes starts) with sports. What they used to play when they were young. A game of football with two rocks as a goal post, a game of cricket where hitting a six meant immediate elimination and so on. Not for me. I've been an introvert for a major chunk of my life and for that very reason, my time for myself was spent indoors. The occasional bonding with the nature that I had were during the rains. I've always felt connected to the rains. The clouds and the drizzles. Now, don't get me wrong. When I say 'bonding' with the nature, it merely means taking my gaze away from the computer screen to go sit near the window, see the rain drops fall from up above. Sometimes I'll get lucky and a mist of water droplets come and greet my face. Long back, when I used to cycle back home from school, and there was a possibility of me ...