In a few minutes, the sun will laugh it all away, people would dip into swimming pools and play basketball below my apartment, the trees would gleam, and the only trace that it had ever rained would show for a while on the wet roads. And then that would be gone too.
I do not envy those who have to go out to work today, this morning would have made a perfect holiday.
I have no excuse not to work though, because my study is also my office and it is time for my daily writing exercises.
This morning, I’ve woken to a storm. Or may be I actually woke to the threat of one. Dark skies, distant rumbles, an occasional streak over the trees far away. The wind came through the open windows and made billowing sails of my red curtains.
I have written about the view from my window, but that was when I was in Singapore, and the view included the Singapore Harbour Bay, and the tree-filled East Coast Park. The only kind of homes I could see in the distance were tall apartment blocks.
Writing when it is raining outside is such a joy. Specially when it is the kind of rain that pours down in Malaysia, in torrents, clouding out everything from miles around, darkening the sky so you have to switch on lights in the afternoon.
I have been writing a fair bit these past few days, and somehow have not made it to my blogs. (Some of my writing exercises have made it to a local web-zine, which is good, specially because I like most of the other writing that has been published there so far).
Writing about rain comes naturally to me, it is one of the things I can write about and never run out of things to say. It always makes me a little sad, fills me with an unknown longing, it throws me sometimes into a spiritual trance in which all the life around seems to take…