Creative Writing, Ishaisms, Reflections

SINGING IN THE RAIN

I woke up to a terrible storm ravaging my world…

An overpowering wind threatened entrance by force as the floor length windows shuddered. The curtains had succumbed to the call of the wind yet remained sucked and concaved into the glass panes, flapping fitfully at the separation.

A bleak, gloomy day – pale yellow, as though polluted by years of smog – unnatural and filthy. The world looked on the outside, the way I felt on the inside. Was I slipping again, into that abyss of nothingness?

It was one of those days that I’d known, intuitively, was on its way. Like a weather forecast, I could tell…my spirt was drawing close to a certain state I knew so well – weary, hopeless and utterly drained out – as though the pouring clouds were mirroring my energy – wrung dry and rendered void.

I tried to tell myself that it must be this current climate the global-collective is living under – forced and exhausting – but that doesn’t explain how I’ve been experiencing the same season for so many years in my life – like clockwork – a dreaded routine. I don’t know for sure what brings about these bouts of feeling so low that all I want to do is lock myself up for days and cry my heart out (which I know is no solution); and, anyway, crying was easier years ago – now I don’t even have the reserves, it seems – so the sky cries out and pours for me.

Listless and melancholy, my heart feels like it doesn’t even beat on such days; and I feel like I’m buried beneath centuries of existence.

No one teaches us how to be our own parent as life goes on, do they, dear reader? – How to love and nourish ourselves, when that is the only lesson any pupil can ever need in life! Spirit and soul are so neglected generally, that we grow up learning to neglect it in our turn – and don’t know how to deal with reality – all the while, ironically, craving for something real to heal us.

These crying spells or bouts of lowness last days at a stretch leaving me so shaken that waking up from it, is like waking up to a fading, dying storm – paths strewn with twigs and leaves; mess of debris; destruction, ruin and loss.

Deep breaths – the wind blows with some semblance of normalcy again. This too shall pass, I say, knowing that somewhere it hasn’t; and if it has, it has taken something with it.

I pull myself together and decide to get out of my bed but can’t. Not just yet. The storm begins to subside, yet it still pours outside. No thunder and no flashes of lightning anymore, though, which is a good sign.

Then, somewhere, clear as crystal, I hear a bird singing – the same bird I’ve heard sing all my life, every single morning – the same, sweet, joyful notes “like water bubbling from a silver jar” as Oscar Wilde once wrote. I get out of bed, as the sky demands attention, and parting the curtains, look at the world outside – a pale blue sky, with a solitary, animated orange cloud right at the centre. Enchanting!

It still rains softly, but the bird still sings…

And isn’t that how life is, dear reader?

© Isha Garg

23 thoughts on “SINGING IN THE RAIN”

  1. Oh. My. God. Can I even begin to comment on this utterly heartfelt and exquisitely (here comes that word so often wasted) POIGNANT piece of writing.
    It’s as if the sharpest blade of expression has revealed every ounce of your being in one, drawn out cut. If there was no ocean, pandemic or whatnot as an obstacle I would just get on my bike and start driving to you, storm or no storm. Just to be face to face. I’m pretty sure my cheeks would be dust and tear trails atop the largest smile. Love you !

    Liked by 1 person

    1. If you were here, I’d be dancing to “singing in the rain”, umbrella tossed away in the storm! 😘
      As for poignant, I did break up with that hateful word once, but it does come in handy more often than not, especially now, when I completely approve of its use to describe this piece of writing. 😉 I just had to write it all down, and I feel so much the better for it.
      Once again, I’m in awe of your eloquent expression – that one drawn out cut indeed… How I love your words, your warmth and you ❤️🍀 miss you much!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I swear I will only use poignant once this year, so that was it – no more and nowhere else. And in a way I feel so much better that it wasn’t wasted, and that you considered not slamming your door in its face. Standing in the storm getting drenched after all….. poor, bedraggled sod.
        And I loved this post: let this be decreed to all and sundry (and yes, called sundry and he concurs….). Mega hugs from afar, and thank you for everything 🌷🌷❤️

        Liked by 1 person

      2. “poor, bedraggled sod” 🙈
        Laughing (in French) here, when only a few moments ago I was all glass-is-half-empty! Mega hugs received and returned with so much, much love. You know I’m ever grateful to you my wonderful friend ❤️😘

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I don’t want to fill your comment section with our signature Ishu/Di banter …. but just have to add that I shall have a glass half full tonight in your honour, and giggle in French with a decidedly Erica style splutter hehe. I’m glad you are laughing…. 😘 mwah!!

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Good God, I truly pray for you to get the strength to get through this, Rachel. It’s terrible that you relate to it. No one should have to…it’s the worst thing ever.
      Thank you for being so kind and warm to me always. I appreciate it more than words can tell…❤️❤️

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I pray the same for you Isha. It is uncanny, and at the same a little comforting, that just this morning (it’s late evening here now), I briefly posted a poem that I swear could be about this very same thing you have written about. In fact, it has such similarities in content that when I read your piece I wondered If you’d think I’d borrowed your theme! I had not even read this before I wrote it, I promise!

        I’ll try and repost it if I can muster more enthusiasm for it.

        I hope you are ok sweet Isha, I know what ‘these days’ feel like…. I wish you didn’t know them either.
        Sending you a great big hug, and a bunch of flowers.
        ❤️🌺

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Uncanny but I do believe in synchronicity, Rachel. I can’t wait to read it… In fact I removed a whole paragraph about the late evening sky before publishing this post, so I’m even more intrigued! We’re all cosmically connected…
        Do post it, I’m so intrigued.
        Thank you for sharing this and for your heartfelt words! Hugs, love and power, dear one 🌹

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I love the whole idea of us all being connected, and I too believe in synchronicity. Sometimes coincidence feels just too big to explain things away … I’d love to see the removed paragraphs!
        Thanks for your encouragement, it means more than you could know ♥️♥️

        Liked by 1 person

      4. You humble me, Rachel. I hold your work in such high esteem… Unfortunately, not many artists seem to move me, but with your work I have only to read the title to be transported and the first phrase to immersed completely… My encouragement being received with such grace is truly, truly humbling. Have a wonderful day! 🌹

        Like

  2. A storm is a good metaphor for your moods. Such are the ebb and flow of the tides of life, some days the sun shines, some others it storms. The mother in me wants to hold you close and let you have a good cry. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Your gentle, sage, loving words helped me so much, Eliza. They stayed with me long after I’d read them. Thank you so much, dear lady. I already feel as good as I would have, had I had that cry. This comment holds a very special place in my heart. I’ll never forget it ❤️❤️

      Like

  3. It must be difficult to write something so heartfelt and disturbing, unless one goes through with all these feelings. The dear reader can almost feel the helplessness of this post, but like you said at the end, the bird still sings, and brings out the smiles. Take care Isha.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Many can turn the mirror on the World, but you turn it on yourself. You write daringly and glaringly. I felt a heavy weight today, without a sound reason, then I read this and the bird you heard sing, I allow myself to hear it and then I smiled!

    Like

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