Every time it rained, he got excited. Whatever he was doing, he would leave and rush out to watch the rain, if he was not in a position to get wet.
Obviously he had a job where he worked 9 to 5 or to 6 or 7 or 8 or 9 or 10 or midnight. He would notice the sound of the raindrops tapping outside. He would look towards window and leave his desk to go downstairs to watch the downpour.
He never knew what happiness he got from watching the rain but he would watch it, touch it, feel it.
When it rained and if he was home, he would feel it like a bliss. He would rush to the balcony to watch it. Watch it changing it's speed & heaviness & lightness. He would curse wind or storm if it came on the way of rain. He knew the storm would push the cloud away from over his home / city to splash somewhere else.
He would take photos and make videos to watch it later. He felt good for the trees whose leaves would get washed by the rain. He would get happy watching the leaves polishing and shining green as if the thick layer of dust has been washed from the head to toe of his kins.
He had a bad habit of sleeping within seconds after getting into his bed. He would sleep at least and at most six hours. He would not wake up in the middle. It never happened with him except when his girl screwd him.
The rain.
When it rained late at night or early in the morning he would listen to the splash in his sleep. He would jump out of bed with his heavy head and rush to the balcony to see the richness of rain.
He would watch it for sometime. He would listen to the downpour. He would make some tea and stand on the balcony with a cup of steaming tea and a lit cigarette. He would smoke, sipping tea and memorizing how it used to rain for several days nonstop. He would sit wrapped in a cotton sheet on the huge sandook (wooden box), watching rain which used to turn the courtyard into a swimming pool.
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