A wet winter eve..

It rained.

An opaque sheet of water covered the skies. The pale grey was everywhere, spreading its dullness with all its might. Time melted into an amorphous blob, merging mornings, afternoons and evenings. Every droplet that was shot onto earth from the skies, brought gloom with it. It broke peace of the people and shattered calm of the puddles. Black viral ripples took birth everywhere, forming shiny crests and dark troughs. The roads took a constant battering and shined like crushed rock salt covered in tar. The wind got caught up in a weird wedlock with water. They formed loops and waltzed in swirls above roofs, like a foolish young couple desperately lost in one another.

So, whats special about this particular rain? It graced me on my big day - No, not my marriage (not yet), but my graduation! It rained for three days - or I should say it poured. One friend couldn't control his temper and screamed at the sky, "You've pissed enough, you stupid Gods!", whilst getting drenched in heavenly urine. Another friend researched on the phrase "raining cats and dogs", making up his own deranged theories. I, on the other hand, had no time to waste. I did not think about the rain. Oh no sir, I didn't. I was far more busy preparing for 'the-day'. After hiring my regalia (and having tried it umpteen times) and inviting my graduation guests, I spent all my time thinking about the procession in the morning and the capping ceremony in the evening. The faded day hadn't succeeded in seeding gloom in my mind. My pleasant distraction let me only see the crowd, the bright lights and the pompous ceremony and threw the present into oblivion.

Only weather can be the cruelest wet-blanket in the game of life. I woke up to a pouring morning. I imagined a waterspout-like vortex sucking out water from the seas and constantly feeding like the skies. No sooner had I called up my faculty, than I found out that the procession was cancelled. I plodded in the rain, in my suit, with my bag that carried my regalia locked to my chest. I think the crazy marriage of wind and water was dissolving after all, as I found both of them taking turns to batter the trees, roofs and most importantly my umbrella. It now seemed like a classic bickering of a married couple. When I finally reached my office, my excitement grew up like a fever as I saw more black robes walking the University streets. I couldn't hold it any longer and so swiftly put on my regalia and started taking snaps with friends and colleagues. The engineering high tea came by and went by and I hardly noticed. And I made my way to the graduation hall. The weather was mellow or so it seemed. Small brooks adorned all the streets, making their way into ubiquitous drains. The silvery black, sandpaper textured road, instead of chafing against my soles, was slipping beneath it. The skies cleared and the breeze was gently kissing my body. Trees shone in renewed green. I took a deep breath and relished that moment. That magnificent rebirth of joy, on a wet winter eve - my graduation eve, was unforgettable.

I strutted into the gloriously lit theater and got seated. After a series of addresses from guests and dignitaries and other formal stuff, the ceremony finally began. I waited with bated breath for my turn and it finally arrived. I walked up the stage and looked for the cue to walk. My name was called. In that fevered moment, I was deprived of my senses. All of them. Like a zombie I walked to the vice chancellor, shook his hand firmly and dazedly walked across the podium. An ephemeral disappointment struck me the very instant I was past the limelight. However, I quickly realized the significance of what had just happened and how much it had meant to me and was overcome with joy. I had done it. A sense of fulfillment and accomplishment had gushed through my nerves and the exhilarating thrill endured on for the next few minutes. I think that feeling is described in common literature as being on cloud nine. 

That ended the wet winter eve, the eve I graduated, the eve that I would remember.