Rain rain go away, come again another day...Little Johnny wants to play!" Of all the poems I learnt as a kid, the one I never really took to was this one. The rains sure didn’t stop Little Gen, (me, of course!) from heading out to play. In fact, call it a connection with rain or an inexplicable desire to get messy, but I was always the first one out of the door the minute the pitter-patter of the rains were felt on the window-pane.
Today, as I sit in my room in Chennai, playing witness to the lightning in the sky, I’m pulled back to the time where the rains were an integral part of my life — the absolute freedom they bought with them, the balance between summer heat with winter numbness, letting you think, connect and just BE.
School always reopened at the start of the monsoon season. To me, rains mean newness — new classrooms, new teachers, new friends and the start of a new football season. Being an athlete, I was obsessed with this sport and the minute rains kicked in, my football shoes would be out of the cupboard. Rain meant football practice after school — we used to purposely run through puddles, get messy and land up at home looking worse than anything the cat could possibly drag in.
When I look at the rain now, I think of scraped knees, loud laughter, and Mom’s exasperated face! Sometimes my cousins and I would walk back from school together, eating Vada Pav on the way! By the way guys, that and hot Chai is my favourite monsoon grub.
Now, it seems like responsibility has replaced spontaneity and impulse in our lives and we think twice before doing anything, even stepping out in the rains. We have all turned into adult versions of Little Johnny — afraid of the rain, afraid to play. Come on, guys, let’s get the fun and frolic back into our lives. Who’s joining me for a game of football in the rains?