Longing.

I once had a friend.

Sometimes when we spotted rain clouds, we would pack our mobile phones and some change for an ice cream or a burger from Nirulas in a plastic pouch, tuck it into our pockets and walk to the park across the road from our hostel. We would sit on the grass for long, waiting for the rain and talking. Most often it wouldn't rain. And we would walk back, secretly hoping that it would rain soon and we get to enjoy it on a quiet holiday like this, before the winters set in. Perhaps it drizzled on one of the days, or may be it did not - I cannot be sure now. What I remember vividly is our longing for the rain and how we would ceremoniously get ready for it.

Today looks like one of those days that we would have packed our mobile phones and some change in a plastic pouch, tucked it into our pockets and walked to the park across the road. To wait for the rain.