December 16, 2023
For John Lawless sponsored W T F W T Contest
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In the slate horizon static like a slab of rooted rock, charcoal clouds clambered from its convolute edge with the storm that rushed with the gruelling gale, carrying the cascade of the melted splintered sky. The mesmerizing music of the whistling wind, the symphony of raindrops on the shaking leaves, drew me out to the backyard veranda, where I stood enthralled by the sonata of shower. Wanting to join the concert I turned on the tape recorder, played the classical music of Megh Malhar*, the melody mingled with the echo of the remote thunder, and with the mellow tune resonating in the strings of rain. The wind-swept raindrops splashed on my forehead, dripped down the closed eyes with the touch of weird silence. In those mystique moments of captivating exhilaration, I was lost spell-bound in the amazing realm of frozen time. As the alien wonder of fidgety waves crept on my body, my rapt voice quivered with acronymic shriek, W T F W T. (*Megh Malhar is the melody of rain in Indian classical music)
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