The sound of rain changed from an angry uproar to a subtle pitter-patter. I opened the window to let in the scent of a rain-kissed earth. Gusts of freshness filled me as I took in a deep breath. The sound of droplets that fell lazily from the leaves on to the puddles gave a beautiful rhythm to the otherwise quiet afternoon. Instinctively, I had a deep craving to have crisp onion pakodas with my afternoon tea. This was something my parents did as a ritual ever since I can remember.
The rainy days
We become our parents unconsciously. We learn many things from our parents and the first emotion we learn from them is love. When I was a child, on rainy afternoons, we could hear our parents talking animatedly in the kitchen. It was a happy sound that was interrupted only by the sound of something sizzling in the pan. Their laughter broke through the constant drumming of the rain at intervals. This was their time. This was their rain-pakoda ritual. A simple afternoon but made so beautiful with the presence of raw love. The house felt warmer with the aroma of home-made crisps that flirted with the rainy scents of the afternoon.