The beauty of a past is that you don’t realize its value in present tense.
It is almost like a yearning for something that’s gone and the most frustrating thing is that you know you can jump or cry or bang your head against the wall, but there is no going back to it. Time machines are a concept I never believe in. What if someone who goes back in time gives himself the time machine so that he doesn’t have to spend the time inventing it, using that time to laze around a beach. In which the time machine will cease to have come into existence but is still there. Well, simply put it just doesn’t appeal to me.
It was April 2007 when I had my interview for my current job in MS. The interviewer, a Texan, was telling me how he liked Bangalore over Hyderabad, simply because it rained a lot more in Bangalore. Well, he seems to like rain. What kind of weird people would like rain all the time, thought I! And then over the 5 hours of interviews I got a picture of Seattle. It rains and it rains and it rains some more!
And then I landed here to the rains. It was a wet place, that was for sure. And then conversations with parents started as soon as I managed to get a calling card. And the usual weather question would be answered as “cloudy, it might rain…looks like there is a depression, its going to be rainy”.
Well, normal for Seattle, you’d think, but no, this was the answer I got from my parents. It took me a year of such conversations to realize that Bangalore is quite a rainy place by itself and I must have been used to cloudy and rainy weather by now.
And then, this year there has been much less rain and much good weather, prompting me to worry about all the animals and the ecological effect of less rain. Colleagues who’d be cheerful about the weather would get a “Its never good if it doesn’t rain when it has to!” from me.
And then the rainy mornings would turn up and I found myself unusually cheerful, the smell in the air reminding me of dew filled mornings in the Western Ghats, either in Kerala or when trekking along the ones in Karnataka.
The rains here are different from the ones in Bangalore. They lack the fury or the power. Its mostly a steady drizzle for a long time, rather than the massive downpours along with all the works fairly common in Bangalore.
But the sights of two wheelers hurrying to the nearest tree and parking under them, or autos with their flaps, or the uniform splashes when the rain finally hits the ground with its fury, they can never be recreated anywhere. Even the noise is missing from the rains as it goes about its business with absolute silence.
The smells are the same. There is always the grass that gives out its smell when it gets wet.
The smell of impending rain is the same. But the smell of dry soil getting wet is oddly missing here. I guess the soil is always wet here. Or probably I’ll have to wait till summer to turn up when it gets drier.
[Have no idea how to finish this, so will leave it as it is. Will update with a better finishing if it comes to mind]