The sound of the cuckoo reaches my ears. My skin feels the temperature drop a notch. The sun doesn't seem to be gazing at me any more. Dark clouds fill the skyline. The breeze carries the message - it is time! It cannot be seen, but it has arrived. The scent of the earth cannot be mistaken. A flash is seen in the sky, like that coming from God's own camera. Clouds begin to thunder. In a matter of minutes, all doubts are put to rest as the thin drizzle matures into a visible heavy shower. Some animals take shelter, birds ground their flight. Greens appear greener. Children start screaming, possibly with fear or joy. When I see them run out of their homes and dance right under the rain, I know it is the latter.
Instinctively, I pull out my camera and capture the moment. The photographs are about average. Something in me makes me not want to care about technical perfection. After the light dims to unacceptable levels for pictures, I head to the terrace. The shower is now heavier. My urgency increases.
I step out in the open. Stretching out my arms, I look up to the sky. The first drops of rain soak my skin. I stand still, trying not to disturb the rains. I feel peaceful. I feel small. I feel happy.
It is not the first time I am engulfed with a sense of child like enthusiasm. Every time I experience the first showers, the cobwebs of the past and present that have formed around me are washed away. My world is simple again - just the drops of rain and me.