Thunderstorm

I was sitting in my room when I heard the noise. It isn’t everyday that I’m up till 3 am in the night. But today was for a reason. Pankaj entered the room and told me that our main door was wide open, so were all the balconies, did I leave them open, did I go out, he asked me. But I was too lazy to bother; materialism takes a backseat at these hours I guess. And then there was the sound of clinking iron rods. I stepped out on to the balcony to see pitch dark, the sky had opened up and it was pouring relentlessly. The lights inside my room made the darkness more intense, more complete.. I wanted to feel one with the darkness outside, the only light I wanted to see was the lightning bursts, the only sound I wanted to hear was the sheets of raindrops hitting the earth and the clouds grumbling in anger, shooting down arrows of raindrops, sharp and fast. I switched off the room lights.


I saw the silhouette of an under construction building, right outside. In the backdrop of the lightning, I could see drops of rain clinging onto its bare walls, hoping to hang on for a bit more, before they kiss the ground and lose themselves in the pools below. That is where the sounds of clinking iron rods was coming from. Some part of the building had given way and in the midst of lighting, I could see those rods fallen on purple earth. I still wanted the rain to stop, I wanted to sit outside and stare, breathe. The sky was different than how it everyday is. I like the anomaly, I like the change. I’m too bored of the routine life. But it continues to rain, relentless. I see the most brilliant lightnings I’ve ever seen. Standing on the 11th floor, the world ahead of you, closer to the sky, it looks different, it feels brilliant.

It inspires me to write but the oneness goes as soon as I move back inside the room. The exterior is just a temporary blip. It’s a different world inside.