"Aye brishti jhepe"

I have never been able to see the romanticism in a rainy day. I tried, but i couldn't. I still remember as a child looking at my sister lazying around on a rainy day. Playing ghazals on the tape-recorder, talking to one of her boyfriends. I used to act to think it was all so romantic. I was six, a mere child. As i grew up, i figured, i HATE rain. Monsoons in kolkata meant a relief from the glaring heat, it did not mean feeling poetic or romantic. Fancy my luck, i am now stuck in Plattsburgh, where it rains almost every week. I hate mud, i hate water-log, i hate getting my clothes wet, i hate it the most when the hem of my jeans gets all muddy and black. *uggggghhhh*

You know what's romantic? The snow. The first flake of crystals makes me gush. It gives me an adrenaline rush. The whiteness and the purity cleanses my mind, and i feel like standing outside for long hours, just looking at the white, glittering snow. It's so soft, and mushy. I love the slush it makes after melting a bit. I love the silence it creates. I love the first snow. I just love snow. period.

I guess i am a romantic. Just at a different time of the year. I think i do not need to mention that i am not looking forward to the weather in Kolkata. I would appreciate some heat, but not the humid kind. One thing i adore about the monsoons in Kolkata: phuchka in the evening, the cool breeze blowing through my hair. ;)