The most beautiful and enchanting 3 am experience happened with me last night.
It was around 3 in the morning, 3 am – the hour of Christ, the vulnerable hour for poets, writers, artists, painters, musicians, lovers – when they might just be caught in a captivating bliss of their honesty, their soulfulness, their true self, their rawness, their fears, their innermost soul meets and greets them at this hour – like another entity embracing their bodies. The clock struck 3 and there was an unprecedented thunderstorm outside. Clouds started growling, thunder and lightning began valiant, powerful rain pouring all across. The rain seemed to be so strong that it’s refreshing wetness completely washed away the fire of the earth, the fire of the Delhi heat, the fire of the ground, the dryness of the trees and it seemed to establish it’s power through its sudden pouring force; it’s welcoming showers for the earth.
With a thunderstorm, the electricity within houses often goes away for a while. It was 3 am. The mains went off. When the main electricity line go off, the generator in our society begins in the auto-power. But, in my room there are two bulbs, ceiling fan and the AC. With the generator, only one bulb and the fan can run. As soon as the mains went off, my room got pitch dark because only one bulb was switched on with mains supply. So with the generator, just the ceiling fan spread it’s humble air, and my room was dark, with no lights. I lay on my bed, thinking what to do because I was starting to get a little paranoid as well. I could have got up and switched on the other bulb, but, somehow I just didn’t want to. The fan seemed to swirl around with an unusual speed; something which I hadn’t noticed otherwise.
The thunderstorm by now seemed to be growling a little less, but the powerful showers were there to stay. My bed is just next to my balcony. So, the new, elusive smell of the earth spread it’s magic within my senses. The sound of the rain was so loud and powerful, that it was all that I could hear at that time. It was bewitching and alluring at the same time. It was pulling me towards itself and was almost pestering me, to wonder about what this could eventually mean to me. I was starting to wonder how years later, one day, the same mighty force of the rain would make me do. I wondered what a dark room, with no source of light from anywhere, with the vigorous sound of the rain -in forceful momentum, with an unstoppable vibrancy, would make me do! My mind began to venture into a faraway dream paradise. Years later, with the mystical incantation of an an enticing rainy night- would I like to dance, with no music? Would I like to get lost into a lover’s arms? Would I like to confess my deepest secrets? Would I like to go outside and get drenched? What would this intriguing force of nature, make me do?
Suddenly, I started feeling cold across the skinniness of my body. I saw that, the air surrounding my room was starting to get chilly and crisp, probably because of the marvelous charm of the rains and freshness of the wind from outside. The vigor of chilly wind in my room, pushed back the stretches of my top and uncovered my stomach and waist. This was why I was feeling cold now. When your bare skin comes in contact with the fine planktons of the scintillating washed wind, when it touches the magic of petrichor, you will feel chilliness running across your veins. I reflected , just how beautiful and supple our skin indeed is. I wondered, if the chilliness in the air could be the touch of a lover or is it just trying to tell me that, all of us indeed, have beautiful skin. We have, all of us have, beautiful bodies. The stretches of my skin now possessed a shivering, cold surface, like a covering blanket, through the charms of new, fresh air. My stomach and waist never felt any softer and I started thinking how much I complain about it, when I should never do! I reflected on my incessant demands against the beauty of my skin. How much I crib about my belly when it bloats up during cycles or how much I crib about it being too skinny at other times. I never quite embrace the magical skin, the enchanting gift I have been blessed with. In fact, do we all ever, feel thankful for our skin, for our hearts, for our minds, for our bodies ? We’re so beautiful the way we are. Flawed, but fantastic. Raw and ravishing. Natural and naive.
I couldn’t believe that the magical rains and the beauty of petrichor, the exhilarating winds, would make me reflect on these vital and worthy thoughts. By now, it was even darker, and I had just been lying on my bed, motionless, doing nothing; except for wondering about the enchanting melancholy of rains in the darkness. There was no fear in darkness now, in fact, it felt like home to me. The spellbinding rains had swept magic across my dark room and also, within my mind; with tenacious thoughts and profound perceptions, trying to thread into prose and poetry.
I was thinking about what to do. Do I listen to the song over which I’d been crushing on for a week now ? – All of Me by John Legend, or do I go and sleep next to my sister? Or do I talk to the sweet guy who’s been making me smile for a while. But assuming that he must be fast asleep, I didn’t want to wake him up. I didn’t move. I didn’t get up for anything. I switched off the screen light of my phone and kept it aside. I turned to the side of my balcony and let the brilliance of the rains overpower my best 3 am version. I was falling in love with this overwhelming hour, when all I did was just lie down and let the beautiful showers from outside, teach me new lessons and wisdom up my beliefs.
I was feeling so thirsty. My throat was all dry. I wanted to drink an entire bottle of water. The bottle of water was kept at the opposite end of my bedside but I, somehow just didn’t get up to drink. I just couldn’t. Something stopped me. I couldn’t get up. I let the dryness of my throat persist like that. It was almost like the loud scream and sound of the pouring rain kept pulling me towards itself, saying, ‘Come, fall in love with me’.
There are myriad of experiences and incidents, which can change your perception towards love. Why does love always have to be relating with a partner of a romantic interest? Why has it always been a dream of many, to have the validation and assurance of our own selves, or worth, our own importance, from a lover/partner? The spell of the rains, the fascinating weather can gather a lot of sentiments within you, which are enough to entice you for sharing intimacy. However, as I lay down here in my bed, thinking about everything that the rains taught me, I thought to myself, what if I never ever find or meet my Prince Charming? What if no one ever loves me for who I am? What if sharing this enticement in someone else’s arms isn’t necessary? I possess gifts within me. I own jewels over my persona, which aren’t materialistic, but intangibly soulful and real. Someone else’s validation doesn’t define me. A lover’s touch doesn’t define me. My skin, my heart, my mind, my kindness, my unconditional love, my undying care and the selfless vibe that I exude- this self-assurance touch, this defines me. This is a creation. I’m a creation. I define myself.
This one hour in the divination of my dark room with the drizzles over the earth, had given me so much perspective that I couldn’t foresee even in the most ludicrous dreams. It was now around 4 am. The rains had slowed down and the atmosphere was replenished with new life. The mains (electricity line) came back, illuminating my room with sudden bright white light, after one hour of sedentary slumber; but I didn’t switch on the AC or the extra bulb. I think I’d fallen in love with the beautiful downpours, the resplendent rains, with the subdued air of the ceiling fan. I’d fallen, a bit more, in love, with myself.