About a conversation.

The sky was about to pour. And in a minute, the earth would be soaked and afresh. I could feel that happening, the smell of earth making filling the air as rain opens her pores. There are certain things that happen in our lives, the things that we have known way too clearly to experience them even without them happening in real. The rain is such a phenomenon. So is love.

He tells me that the world is a weird place and that things are not the way I see it. May be that’s true. I don’t see things the way others see it; I see them as they are, as life is.

And I did not reply.  I just listened.

He tells me that there are too many odds and too many risks; asks me to avoid the risk while I still can. He tells me that there is not even a degree certificate in his name and that he still hasn’t figured a way to live by, let alone include me.

I still listen. And I smile.

‘When a person who has seen hell and has been through almost every drama that this life threw up, believe them when they say things. For they often mean it and they know the depth of the words they utter. They may seem to see nothing, but the truth is, they see the way things are meant to be seen.’

I wish I told him this. But then the clouds receded. And it didn’t rain.

But no year shall pass without the rain kissing the earth. And no life shall pass without love touching their soul.

I smile again and let go of his hand. But the feel of them lingered on.