Softly fell the rain that day,
Like kitten's fur and satin.
It stroked and brushed but never touched.
It was there, but not really.
She loved the Rain,
She'd always loved him.
He was the one she connected with
The soul she saw hers in.
The Rain loved her too,
But his words were mere sounds to her.
The patter of raindrops the rumble of thunder-
A language she couldn't comprehend.
The creeper of life needs a solid post.
Fluid torrents flowed away.
She pined for the Rain,
But he couldn't be there.Not really.
Harsh as the crack of a whip
It rained that day.
Like stones and needles.
Piercing and hurting- tangible distress.
She stood on the edge and welcomed Him
And the Rain shot out a silver finger
And carried her away with him.
More Than a Game: Cricket, Identity, and Politics
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How a childhood love for cricket has turned into a lens for questioning
nationalism and colonial legacies in India vis-à-vis Manipur
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1 week ago
6 comments:
I know u live in chennai. But that's not an excuse for not having bath everyday. Anyway, given ur fascination for the monsoons: next time it rains, make sure u have a bar of soap handy.
Crazybugga: I know you are self centred and all that.. but not everyone is bath deprived like you.
Ah.. Saawariya screenplay.. Lovers meeting.. Very well written.. :)
Cha! Oru rain-dance a kooda kaanom
The rain, he came
he saw, he waited
And when she created for him
her very own tear drop,
with joy and exhilaration
carried her away, beyond the clouds
beyond himself, beyond eternity.
Sirpy:I'll take that as a compliment :)
Santhosh: Sure, I'll contact the fire-force too bring in the hose.
Harish Suryanarayana: ... Whoa!
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