Green And Blue

It’s raining…raining…and raining without intimation by an overcast sky or by a gust of vagabond wind or by scary lightening or deafening thunder. It suddenly pours. The clouds sale in later. Sometimes along with a distant roar of thunder. Odd isn’t it ?

When the sky does not weep to its heart’s content it is humid, sweaty, suffocating.

This is my third post on rain this year. But I don’t get tired of it when I look around. My eyes rest on different shades of green.

Some dark, some light, some pale, some bright – you have it all. Somebody said I was lucky to have a giloy (tinospora cordifolia)plant. It’s a climber. This year it has scaled three floors and perhaps will soar higher.

It has twined around the Christmas tree. I was told soon the parent plant will die as the climber embraces it tight – it’s leaves a shade lighter than that of the former. I call it love of a different level – parasitic? possesive? passionate? or merely obsessive to the point of  perversion?

My humble garden looks full and vibrantly green. All the plants are not mine. Some belong to my sister. As nobody was there at home for a short spell so the smaller pots were kept here for watering. But whatever the reason be they have added to the fullness and vibrancy of my modest garden.

My freshly found romance with rains continues unhampered….

It’s rained today again….

Suddenly the afternoon was as dark as night. But the downpour was not so wanton. It was contained. Slow. Steady. Consistent. More mature.

I am not happy with its consistency. It’s difficult to dry clothes. The interior of my flat looks like the river bank where the  washerwomen wash and dry laundry. We call it dhobi ghaat (washerman’s river bank)

Those who have adopted me are, I guess, less worried.

Excess of everything is bad. Perhaps I will also get over this non stop rain unusual in the month of September.

Until then…

rain

the same song

again and again