Sense & Nonsensibility

Dear Dreamers, When was the last time you got drenched in the rain? Not when you were shuttling to work and back, afraid that your hair, your clothes or your shoes might get wet. I cant remember the last time I didn’t huddle through the dampness of a rainy day. No, today I enjoyed the feeling. Today I turned to the clouds and watched the big raindrops fall on my face, seep through me. And it brings back memories. Memories of the my dad driving through the winding roads of Goa, as ginormous raindrops engulf us , my aunts, mom and sister squished at the back, Memories of raindrops on the luscious green leaves and green mountains and valleys at the back, and the memories of the sweet sweet smell of wet soil rising up and bringing with it the promise of the rain on the tortured hot ground. We don’t do this often enough, let the rain wash over us. We get tied down by our commitments, our desire to get the next shiny object. And so we forget .. Sometime...

It all began five days ago, half of us hunkered to work, grumbling slightly, dealing with our Monday blues, the other half of us, jumped up at the crack of dawn, pulled on our running shorts, and hit the Boston Marathon. The Boston Marathon held on Patriot’s Day every year is the oldest annual marathon in the whole world. To marathoners everywhere, the Boston Marathon is a sign of strength, regularity and endurance, for Bostonians, the marathon is a sign of hope, turn of change, that spring is around the corner, a sign of new beginnings and a new season of Red Sox games. For everybody with the day off, it’s a day to watch the marathon in Boston’s Copley area, a day to laze around, a day to possibly go on a bike ride and do spring cleaning. Monday: Day 1 I woke up, like any usual Monday, stayed in bed till the last possible moment, got ready to work, and then it hit me smack in the head that the MBTA was running on a weekend schedule due to Patriots Day. Wow what a sta...