We have had so much heat and humidity lately that I had forgotten the feeling of freshness of a rainy day. Then the thunderstorm came in the afternoon, with a confident wind, raising the trees into a vortex of dance. From the balcony I watched the road become alive with splashes. I heard the melody of the quenching rain and a moment later I found myself on the street, without an umbrella. Fortunately, I stay at a place where there is an abundance of greenery. There is a water tank where our two pet swans and three ducks swim all day. Different water birds like kingfisher, little cormorant (Microcarbo Niger), and Indian Pond Heron (Ardeola Grayi) are frequent visitors.
I stood by the water tank. Bright green, juxtaposed under the dark-grey storm clouds, painted a picture of heavenly tranquility. Our swans, oblivious to the rain, kept themselves busy at the food bowl, while the ducks swam gleefully. A forlorn kingfisher was sitting on the steps of the water tank, waiting for the next catch. It completely ignored the only human presence, thus, allowing me to take a shot
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I've always loved the rain and the thunderstorms. I've always loved the storm-cloud-grey. To see them swirling in the heavens brings a kind of inner glee. If I could reach up and bring down a handful of that cosmic swirl, if I could make a fabric from it that was ever-changing as the sky above is right now, I'd wear it forever. As much as my soul is renewed by the springtime flowers and the light, I was built for the fight, the sort that brings the soul-cleansing rain.
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