waiting for rain

rain, a promise of relief from the heat. but it's the waiting that's hardest. waiting for the sky to darken, for the first drop to fall. my grandmother used to say, kabhi kabhi baarish ki aatma ko bhi intezaar karna padta hai. sometimes even the soul of the rain has to wait. i think of her, standing by the window, watching the clouds. she'd tell me stories of the monsoon, of flooded streets and overflowing rivers. and i'd listen, mesmerized, as the smell of wet earth filled the air. but now, as i wait for the rain, i'm reminded of all the times i've waited for things that never came. like the letter i wrote to my childhood friend, which was returned, unopened. or the phone call i expected from my sister, which never came. the waiting, it seems, is a constant. and the rain, it's just a reminder of all the things i've waited for, all the things i've yet to receive. i walk to the window, and look out at the sky. it's a deep grey, the kind that promises rain, but doesn't always deliver. i think of all the times i've stood here, waiting, and how it's become a part of me. the waiting, the watching, the hoping. it's a habit, a ritual, a way of life. and as i stand here, i realize that it's not just the rain i'm waiting for, it's the promise of something more. something that will fill the emptiness, that will make the waiting worthwhile. but for now, i'll just stand here, and watch the sky, and wait.