Nepal | June 04, 2020

TOPICS: Friends with nature

Srijana Kattel
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You also must have had such experiences; in the middle of the night you wake up wide awake from a deep sleep and even if you try to sleep again it proves to be a futile effort so you lie and just think.

Unconsciously the mind begins to conjure up scenarios and jumps from one incomplete thought to another until you realize you are even more awake.

Last night  too I got up with sleep gone, only to stare at the black of the night from my window. I did try to sleep again trying everything I  read on the internet about sleep but sleep just vanished.

Cool winds howled blowing in my room from the large gaps of the curtain, a welcome consolation from the unbearable heat endured by all throughout the week. I could hear the loud murmur of the insects in the quiet of the night.

Maybe they were talking, rejoicing, dancing; having a party celebrating life because the birds had slept and for during these dark hours now they no longer had to hide.  Their voices are so loud maybe it’s a competition, will the frog’s croak win or the buzz of the insects; all begging for drops to fall as the moisture laden wind blew.

It’s now raining, oh! How I love the sound of raindrops when they touch the tin roof pitter-patters; perhaps that’s how music plays when lovers meet after a long time but I had forgotten how to listen as I participated in the rat race of life. The smell when the first drops of water hit the parched earth ought to be the scent of fairies dancing in all their precious, delicate finery.

When I fell in love with the rain I don’t remember but it’s a one-sided romantic story that will never end, of that I am sure. Or is it that the rain loves me? Resembling an evil guardian who does all in his power to stop lovers meeting, the thunder roars as lightning strikes repeatedly forcing me away from the window.

However,  true love always finds a way, so what if I can no longer see the rain, I feel the little drops that somehow meet me.

I sit on my bed as I listen to the sounds and dream  of countries and places of fairies, of magic; of the world so different and better than what we know where nothing is impossible and humans are friends with nature.

When I fell asleep to the sweet lullaby of rain I don’t know but my dreams continued to play.


A version of this article appears in print on August 04, 2017 of The Himalayan Times.


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