MIRTH

I looked at the trees, the lawn, the grass and the sky. I kept staring out in the distance. Above the sound of the rain, I could hear my mom fry pakoras in the kitchen, the sizzle louder with every batch of pakoras as the oil got hotter and hotter. The first rain of the year. A proper downpour. The kind that wets every millimeter of you within seconds. Suddenly a strong wind splashed a few drops of water on my face. I blinked and drew a deep breath. I turned around and looked inside our house from the verandah. I could see dad sitting in the bean bag, pretending to read the newspaper, but actually fast asleep. I made sure mom was still in the kitchen, listening to the old Marathi songs playing on the radio. I slipped my feet into my slippers and quietly stepped out of the house.

I walked slowly and heavily on the mud path that was carved out around our garden. I stopped where it was cut to enter into the garden. I looked at my feet, at the slippers and then at the grass. I removed my slippers and stepped onto the grass. I walked slowly as I felt the grass beneath my feet. By now my clothes were clinging to me. I was drenched in the first rain of the year.

I looked up at the sky. It was a uniform grey. Spotless. Plain. But not dull in any way. I stared at the sky, unblinking. I felt the drops of rain, sharp as razor; hit my face, my eyes, my cheeks. I stood there, looking at the sky, my hands beside me.

Somewhere I could hear someone calling out to me. I ignored.

I lifted my hand and ran it over my face. Slowly I could feel this energy build up in me. My breathing grew stronger, heavier. I had this mad surge to shout at the top of my voice. No I was not mad or angry at anything or anybody. Sometimes you don’t have to be mad at or angry at something or somebody to feel like doing something so crazy. Nature drive’s you mad.

I opened my mouth and let out a loud cry. A long loud cry.

Suddenly everyone was out of their houses. They were all staring at me, wondering if I had lost my mind. Mom was standing in the verandah of our house with dad, clutching each-other’s hands. I looked at them. I looked at the people who were staring at me. I walked out of our garden onto the street and looked up at the sky again. I kneeled down and spread my arms wide apart and screamed again.

What joy!

What liberation!

I stopped screaming. My head was still tilted upwards. I drew my hands close and bent my head. I placed my hands on my laps and hung my head. I looked up at mom and dad again. And at the people who were still staring at me. And I smiled as I saw few of them were running towards me, their arms stretched out, and their mouths wide open as they joined me in my mirth and screamed.