It was raining cats and dogs. The sound of traffic from the road behind the house, seem to be the only noise after rain’s, interposing her thoughts. It was yet another day filled with sorrow and anger. Unconsciously knowing one’s potential and yet not being able to achieve a single grain of freedom even after all these years of all the rebellion and fight. All the vim put out in search of something, someone – herself. All destroyed by nugatory men whom she could never dream of being so strong in front of all the struggle that she had been through. The strength that she had gained in all these years suddenly crumpled like a sand wall. 

She has to admit, the timing was impeccable. They have chosen their grounds well. All this time while she was concocting herself to fight the world, they were observing every move of her – learning, preparing to attack when the time was right. Those filthy dirtbags attacked. Attacked hard. Leaving no trace of her entire existence behind. 

• 

It was raining so hard. When she looked at the sky in hopes of leaving this brutal battlefield behind, she saw sky – pouring its heart out. It was also crying with her, on her, while her bruised corpse carrying her dead soul in its arms.

Rain is waggish event. It is with everyone yet with no one. If you are ecstatic, it sings and dance with you. If you are despondent, it cries with you. But one thing is crystal clear, the sky is always there for you. Whether you’re gloomy or gay, it is with you. Even when you are winning or losing, it is there. Sometimes you just feel like keep on walking into deep jungle and simply disappear. You do disappear eventually when you are dead but not when, for the world, you are still breathing. For this material world, you are living but spiritually?? Spiritually, you are dead.

She lost the battle to filthy, weak, wastrel dirtbags because she has been betrayed by her own flesh and blood. She wakes up every day in hopes that all this would be a nightmare. The dreamcatchers that she has put all over her bed, aren’t good enough to save her from such horrible nightmares. But when she wakes up and realize that all the wounds are real – the weight of her dead soul, that her brutally bruised corpse is carrying, gets heavier and heavier.

She is yelling, screaming for help. For a teeny tiny window of hope but – nothing. It’s just her and her enemies, laughing at her condition of hopelessness and to her bruised corpse’s destitute condition. But one thing is there – Rain. To hide her pain, to hide her tears, to hide her ever growing weak, helpless self – from her enemies. A hope that all these years that she fought for her dignity, her self-respect, her ideologies, her LIFE – it might have chance of survival. Her enemies might not be able to see her tears, her self-esteem, breaking into pieces bit by bit and that’s because of rain.

Like it’s said, no matter what you are feeling however your circumstances are, the sky is always there to embrace you, hide you. Everything that you’ve done, been through – it sees and feels all. Always ready to hide you. Always ready to embrace your every broken bit with whole heart and unmatchable love.

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