The Open Window

A rumbling sound wakes me up. For a moment I am lost. Where am I? A second rumbling sound reminds me that it’s still summers in most other places but here. The rain whose thoughts had lulled me to sleep just a few hours back had woken me up with its angry shouting.  Just above my bed is my cluttered table. A diary filled with notes lay open. On it are notes of my stay here. None of which captures my important thoughts, or at least thoughts that I will consider important a month from today. The travel book had its various pages folded by the corner and the pen was careless perched on the last page I had seen. It listed the places to stay. Planning my travel was one of the things that continued to keep me excited. Probably being ‘on-the-run’ kept my mind at peace. The window that noiselessly struggled to be free was beyond the table. I stretched my hands to open the window. It was closed in the middle of last night to keep the mosquitoes away. In my half-asleep state I had decided as long as I could really sleep, I did not care about the heat. No sooner did I open the window, the lights went off. It wasn’t dark yet, the somber light washed on my crumpled bed sheet.  I stared out. The long lazy weekend that I had been dreading last week had come to an end. I was still alive and sane. Or so I thought. Does talking to myself count as being insane?

It was getting dark. The keys on my keyboard are not visible anymore except at the lightning flashes. Rain! What is it about rain that fascinates me? I stare out again. A strong lightning blinds me and a loud booming noise swallows the songs from my laptop. For a moment my heartbeat stops. And then I laugh. Wasn’t I just talking about fascinating rain! It’s the sounds. The sound of splashing rain drops, the drops pattering on the leaves, the wind swishing through the trees. It’s the memories. The memories of paper boats, of running under the rain, of holding hands, of waiting beneath a broken roof, of chasing time, of laughing with friends, of cycling through the rain, of reaching home drenched, of drowning my tears, of writing endlessly, and of so many other things. The thoughts are so overwhelming that rain never, never fails to steal my moments. Like it did for years and like it is doing even now.

It is really dark now. The window across my room is visible only if I strain my eyes. The rain has also calmed down. The lightning and thunder are far away and less frequent. I come out of my reverie, close my laptop and walk out of the room. The reception desk is empty. Outside the hallway, the door is still open. I stand at the door inhaling the scent of the drenched earth. The darkness had engulfed everything. Even the doors and windows of the guard room are closed tight. Contradicting all of them the window in my room flutters in freedom echoing my heart.