Onek din por, aj jomiye brishti holo| And as I was watching outside from the 9th floor French window of my office someone came and opened a panel of the window letting in a cool spray of rain with a gush of wind on my face. I left office as the rain subsided and just when I had walked a couple of blocks that it started raining heavily again.
Onek din por, aj brishti te bhijlam| I mean, I was completely drenched. No, I wasn’t wearing a white chiffon saree. No, I wasn’t wearing anything white for that matter. And I was enjoying getting drenched. It felt like suddenly all my worries and stress was getting washed out. I crossed the road and walked a couple of blocks till I got to a bus stand.
Onek din por, aj bus stand e daralam| I just had an awesome time breathing in the rain and watching the city go by. I was so much in the groove that I actually went ahead and struck a conversation with two complete strangers waiting at the stand with me, which is very unlike me. And then, just like that, I also deliberately missed a couple of buses and taxis to eavesdrop on a conversation about a Mohan Bagan match (people, who know me, know that I keep myself away from any kind of sport...umm except the world’s favourite sport). Again, this was very unlike me. It all made me smile.
Onek din por, aj ei shohor ke aabar bhalo beshe phellam| The rain, the people, the madness amidst the peace, I couldn’t just help but fall in love with this city again. And then I noticed an empty taxi. I screamed my lungs out “TAXIIII!” The taxi screeched to a stop a few feet away. I ran in the rain towards it. (Yes I do look funny when I run, but what the hell, no one was watching me... I guess.) The driver was an old man. A really really old man. He gave me a toothless smile and asked me to hop in without a demand for a longer route via bypass or for extra money. This, on a rainy day, is quite a rare phenomenon for the city taxis.
Onek din por, aj brishti te bhije, ac restaurant e shuddhu soup khete dhuklam| Also called a friend over and had a great adda over the soup. Nothing really works like a good gossip session with a dear friend, especially if you are giggling, and shivering with cold at the same time.
Onek din por, aj shotti khub bhalo laglo|