Reminiscing about monsoon in Minnesota

It’s a rainy day today. Here I am in a midsized city in Minnesota, sitting on my bed with a laptop, scribbling words to pour out many an emotion that the damp day has aroused. On the roads, cars are whooshing along, splashing the rainwater that collected in puddles. A lone red Chevrolet is standing in our apartment building's parking lot, its windshield dripping drops of the summer rain. The Southwest metro bus just left the street corner. A middle-aged lady is walking down the street - her one hand holding a bag of groceries, the other a yellow umbrella.

Gloom is hanging over the whole city. It's a small city and the gloom makes it appear even smaller. Is there a connection between the apparent size of a city and its weather? I believe not. But then why does a city seem bigger and merrier on a sunny day?

There is not much difference between the Dhaka skies and skies here in Minnesota. I can only see the differences when I gaze down - the differences become vivid in the models of the cars, street numbers, patterns of the houses and the deciduous trees. But a look at the heaven above takes me back to the city I was born in and raised. It is the same sky and the same clouds. Maybe they are not, but they appear so in the eyes of a person, who now lives abroad.

I miss nagging mom to cook hotchpotch and red-hot beef curry on a showery day. I miss having tea in the afternoon on a rainy day. Ah, with every sip, the pitter-patter of the rain sounded even more rhythmic to my ears! I can still have tea on a rainy day but having so is not nearly as pleasurable, the ambience can bring magical difference even to the taste of a cuppa. Yes, it's true.

So, here I am watching the raindrops fall and reminiscing about the days left in a distant past. You can separate your body from the land you were born in. But your heart? No.

By Wara Karim
Date of publication: July 6, 2010
The Daily Star