My rains...in my Calcutta

After ages I saw the rains here. Like I used to as a child, standing in the balcony while the rain spray touched my face. The dull grey all around, in the sky, on the streets. I missed the rains in Delhi, then again in Calcutta till this time. I saw the rains in Pattaya but they weren’t as nice. The sea looks awesome in the rains. I wish I could have been there with you. Standing high in the hotel window staring at the islands that were vanishing in the horizon. And I would tell you that tomorrow we should go to one of those islands and try spotting the hotel window from there. How completely kiddish. But that is how I am – I think too fucking simply at times.
But this rain in Calcutta- these are my rains. I grew up with this, getting wet and getting shouted at for that. It’s so monotonous that it seems so comforting to me right now. The lack of something, of action, of something drastic, stark and heart breaking. I want this blanket around me. You do not know how torn I feel inside. Look at me. You’ll know. All I want now is to be safe, to be home and to be held like I am wanted and worth something.But you I miss. Strangely. A lot of empty spaces between us…and I do not know what to do with that.