My weather app predicts “Scattered Thunderstorms” and warns me to stay indoors in safety. I laugh back at it. I know it’s a hoax. I live in a place where it is 33°C but feels like 39°C. What do you expect? But a tiny corner of my rational mind wants it to be true. If not a thunderstorm, at least a drizzle. I’ll just fill my lungs with the smell of the rain and the sway of the trees. 

“When April with its sweet-smelling showers”

              ~Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer

Rain is synonymous with many emotions. Love, growth, somber and many more amongst others. Every time it rains, it’s the image of snuggles with a loved one, sipping hot coffee with Ilayaraja’s music which often forms up in our mind. Rain has been romanticized so much that it blushes every time we take its name.

Recently,I caught myself thinking about its neglected child, creativity. I can vouch for many artists who say how a single rain can channel their creative juices and aid them into making art. When the skies break into a shower as I sit on the window seat of the city bus, I make a mental list of all the creative processes happening in my mind in those rainy seconds. I remember those days when I’m inside a car looking at the scattered raindrops on my window pane forming a masterpiece of their own. I wish I could blurt out a poem about how that moment awoke my expressive self. Without a prompt, I belt out a song unmindful of me doing it. There’s a smile on my face throughout. I’ve often wondered why artists make a big fuss about the rain. But when I caught my mind making unchained ideas as I let my imagination wander while I’m searching for a pen to paper down my thoughts, I just knew.