Drop by drop you came into my being. You summer rain, you winter shower, you monsoon downpour, I just remembered my home, when I was four… the creaking door and geraniums… hard stone floor… fathers rose garden, that is no more… It’s a fluid world. There was a storm. Sublime! Dark skies! Angry Clouds! The wrath of Gods! Grandmother’s stories and the invisible shield of superstition… there were many rains, but there was the one, that was followed by the first overwhelming experience of ‘freshness’. This was the feeling of language descending into the realm of feeling. I breathe again, I feel my heart healing. It’s a fluid world. Life has countless moods. I’ve stopped counting.