Monsoon

As I listen to Prateek Kuhad in the middle of the afternoon while struggling to finish the work pending from last week, I realize how I miss the pitter patter of the rain on my bedroom window.

I miss the overcast sky with growling dark clouds waiting to burst off whatever sadness they are carrying with them from every soul unloved.

I miss lying under fluffy blankets on the feather light bed with my favourite book which I’ve read over 48 times yet crying when the lead character dies.

I miss sharing the hot brewing cup of tea with you and then complaining that you drank more.

I miss how easily it was to fall asleep when the night fell and the thunders clapped unceremoniously all over the city just because I knew I’ve you as my umbrella.

But, now when the thunder storms the city, I panic at the sight of doom it brings with it.

No cup of tea could wash it down.

No blankets or books could calm it down.

Not even Prateek Kuhad calm the chaos of the heart.

Just because, the umbrella is lost.

Just because, it’s no more monsoon.

Just because, the sky has cleared out.

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