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Crying With the Rain..

Writer's picture: barishkumar samantaroybarishkumar samantaroy

9437209559,9853309559.

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It is morning. We lie in bed, our minds teetering between asleep and awake. Our circadian rhythms second-guess themselves as dark clouds roll in, forcing the sky into a second night.

Quietly, I lean over you, opening the blinds. I see the ominous clouds overhead, their gray bodies morphing into a gloomy sea. A heaviness lingers in the air as the world holds its breath, waiting for the clouds to part and flood the earth below.

There are no singing birds, barking dogs, or rustling trees. There is only me and you, our collective breath rolling in and out, in and out. A part of me craves this stillness. The silence is a floodgate, protecting us from the words swelling in our throats. But it can’t shield us forever. The rain will come, and the water will rise. It’s only a matter of time.

We stare out the window, our bodies close while our minds drift further apart. We watch the pregnant clouds grow swollen and distended, until they are ready to burst. With laborious breaths, they start to heave, their gray forms billowing from exertion. After one final push, the rain is born.

The newborn rain is soft at first, her gentle tears sprinkling the grass and trees. Her pitter-patter is melodic — a heavenly lullaby. But, rapidly, she matures, her gentle cries evolving into powerful sobs. She grows inconsolable, a downpour of cold tears inundating the soggy ground. Heavy drops pound against the roof until we are deaf to everything except her bellowing cries.

Her sadness flows through me, moving through my chest and throat, before rapidly filling my mouth. The rushing water stops just below my eyes. I try to hold back the tears. But, the floodgate can’t stop the rain. As the barrier crumbles, my sobs fill the room, releasing everything I’ve been holding inside.

As I sob, you look at me. It’s the first time you’ve seen me in years. And together, we cry. We flood the room, our sadness and grief splashing onto the floor in disruptive waves. The levels rise until we are floating, our mouths inches from the ceiling. As we gasp out words previously left unsaid, we start to choke, water rapidly pouring into our throats. We are going to drown.


JaiHind.. 🇮🇳 JaiBharat..

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