An enlightening walk

With the unpredictable monsoon rain, my once-regular morning walks gradually became a distant dream. So, I shifted my walks to the evening, replacing my post-lunch lazy siestas with something a bit more productive.

My father would accompany me on most days, and I would get a chance to have deep and lengthy conversations with him about things he cares deeply about — things he would normally prefer to keep to himself. But, one evening, the rain had something else planned for me. My father was preoccupied with other matters, and I set out alone for a short walk, with the primary motive of buying a cream bun, a cherished tea-time delicacy in my household. Right before I left the house, the sun was bright, the sky was clear, and I did not expect even a drizzle. But in my experience, rain is nothing but a pleasant surprise. So, I carried an umbrella, as a precaution — an instinct I thanked myself for later.

I started my walk, passed by a few children playing football. Appreciating the rarity of finding children away from their phones in a semi-urban area, I moved forward to slowly notice the dark clouds gathering above me. As I tried to rush back home, it poured, drenching me despite my umbrella. I watched people on two-wheelers struggle to find shelter in nearby bus stops and those in cars hurrying to their destination, splattering muddy water on pedestrians.

After a while, it was just me, walking alone through the torrential rain which was not ready to back down. Suddenly, under the dark and gloomy sky, with my glasses veiled by the mist, I looked around and felt a deep sense of happiness. A familiar path that led me home was embracing the rain magnificently and I couldn’t help but watch in complete awe. I felt my heartbeat slow down, and then, unexpectedly, a tear rolled down my cheek.

It’s moments like these that make life worth living. Here, I had inadvertently discovered what home felt like — what belonging felt like. I stood there for a few seconds to breathe in the cold gust of wind and felt an overwhelming sense of joy.

I laughed to myself, held this memory close, and resumed my walk home. The rain subsided and bright rays of the evening sun kissed the drops that remained of the long gone and forgotten downpour. I hurried to the bakery, only to find that they had run out of cream buns — but deep down, I knew that it hadn’t been a walk in vain. I walked further to see the children huddled together on the veranda of one of their houses to take cover from the rain, quarrelling over goals scored, lost and yet to be gained.

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