The Rain Romance

Islamabad is having the first prolonged downpour of the current monsoon which remained largely dry to frustrate the expectations of respite from a blistering hot summer with unprecedented electricity cut offs.

Such a late arrival of the much needed rain is bound to bring gratitude and bliss. The clouds were ripe right from the last night and one couldn’t wait for the wine to be squeezed by the divine hands. The mild tipper-tapper like the whisper of the beloved woke me early this morning and it wasn’t long before we embraced in a hug of love.

The pouring rain fills a vast chunk in the largely bereft world of my romance; it melts my heart in to a deluge of emotions. I feel as if there is no worry in the world but love. As if a beautiful guest is visiting me. I cannot recall the first sight of my love; it has been all along with me, in me. I remember how in my boyhood I’d use ride on the bicycle in the pouring rain, roaming the streets of my little town and coming back home excitedly drenched.

Today is such a day. A day to celebrate. A reminder that life is not all dull and dour. That nature is there to soothe or sorrows and give us the gift of rain.


Rambling …

As dryness prevails with no clouds in sights or those roaming the skies are bereft of moisture, I cannot fish for ideas in the erstwhile pool of imagination, for it is long sucked by the intensity of times. So, I decide to set out on a ramble towards nothingness, than waiting in futility for something non existent. I wander about in the vast expanse of the Writers Block when my eyes catch a glimpse of something shimmering, ‘Ah, thats it, move on lest it fades!’. And it fades the moment I reach there. In this wilderness I’ve found good allies in mirages; they play games with me. But like every other game this game has to end and I dont want to be a loser. I’ve already have my hands full of emptiness. I better make some rain that will fill the pools of my imagination where fish of different ideas will brood to give me a choice to catch ideas from.

P.S: ‘Fishing for ideas in a pool’ is something I heard from Cav

Like A Season Goes By ..

The flowers on your

embroidered dopatta would

remain fresh,

(like the ones I would place

in your locks)

soaked in the midnight rains

of your eyes;

now, sighs, that formed

the thick rain-clouds

are no more to rise

as you trample the wilted

leaves of our blooming love

evoking thoughts

of an autumn that came too soon

P.S: I was taken by a pleasant surprise to see a publication after quite some time.

An encounter

Last night I saw a full moon

embellished in the jewelery of gold,

upfront in a backdrop; black,

as it poured its beams

which it deemed right

to negate the dark.

Intent on hiding the truth

an evil cloud threw a curtain

of gloom over the face of the moon.

It wasn’t yet doom

as I could see some resolute

silvery patches resurfacing

the murky scene

every now and then,

before burying deep by the

vastly obscure skies.

The clouds laughed a malicious thunder,

while someone shed tears of sympathy.