Thursday, June 9, 10:15 AM
Ever since I started this newsletter, almost 8 months ago, I have struggled to consistently come up with topics or themes, which could be developed into the weekly issues I inflict upon all of you. It may all seem effortless to you, dear reader, but a lot of hand-wringing, nail-biting and hair-pulling happens in the background before I somehow manage to piece together these missives you receive every week.
There have been occasions when, bereft of other ideas, I have come perilously close to writing poetry, which, frankly, would have been a harrowing experience for all of us. I have been able to avert such an eventuality thus far though I make no promises for the future1. Generating original content every week is challenging and I lead a mundane life.
So, in order to alleviate the anxiety that comes from staring at a blank screen with the deadline looming, I recently decided to plan topics for this newsletter in advance. This way, I reasoned, I wouldn’t have to spend hours every week mulling about what to write but simply get on with the business of actually writing. An initial investment of time to create a bank of topics would reap rich dividends as I could keep drawing from (and adding to) this repository over time. A foolproof system to protect us all from my poems.
Why am I telling you this? Because this week, I had intended to implement this grand scheme and based on a meticulous study of the Google Weather app which had predicted rain on Wednesday and Thursday, I had planned to write about the #MumbaiRains. Unfortunately, as I write this, it is a typical hot and humid June day. You may be wondering why I couldn’t just go ahead and write about the rains anyway, so let me explain.
You see, I had imagined I’d be writing this while the season’s first rainfall pattered on the windows in front of me, and the trees glistened and swayed in the cool breeze. The word petrichor would have undoubtedly been thrown in somewhere in the opening paragraph2. Now, unlike the Google Weather app, I am not duplicitous. I value my readership and believe they are owed the truth. Far be it from me to defraud you. If I start writing about rain pattering on my windows while it is scorching hot outside, would there remain any difference between me and a particular national political party unabashedly claiming that its appointed spokespersons are ‘fringe elements’? No, I shall not stoop to peddling lies. I will write about rain, when I am in the midst of it, when I can feel it, be invigorated by its smell and enlivened by its sound. I will write about rain when the rain comes to inspire me. I cannot write about it now.
Thursday, June 9, 5:30 PM
Still no sign of rain. Which, I suppose, is a good thing. If it starts raining now, I may have to re-write this entire issue!
Thursday, June 9, 9:30 PM
Godammit, it’s raining.
Friday, June 10, 10:30 AM
Look, just hear me out. The few paltry drops of water that fell from the sky last evening could hardly be classified as rain. The air-conditioners in our building leak more water, to be honest.
Why don’t we just pretend like it never happened so I wouldn’t need to scrap everything I have written till now and start afresh? We are talking about a solid day’s writing being unceremoniously deleted because of a meagre drizzle, what some may even call fake rain. Is that really warranted? Wouldn’t it be better for all of us if, in keeping with the theme of this issue, we just carried on believing that the #MumbaiRains haven’t started yet? Does that sound like a plan?
Great!
Friday, June 10, 9:45 PM
It has been all thunderbolt and lightning for the past few minutes.
It will probably rain through the night and it will probably be raining when you read this. I suppose it’s time I accepted defeat - this issue was spectacularly mistimed and may seem wildly incongruous when it reaches you on Saturday morning. However, since I quit my law firm job precisely because I was tired of staying up late and crying over my mistakes, I shall now stop moping about this. C’est la vie.
There is nothing much to say now, except that I hope to deliver an appropriately timed, dedicated-to-rain issue to you, in due course. You can expect the word petrichor to be used liberally there; hopefully, with better timing.
I was a prolific poet in my youth. While in school, I had written a full-length, murder mystery, musical drama with parodies of popular songs (I think it had 8 - 10 songs, including a parody version of my all-time favourite chartbuster, Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)) which had been critically acclaimed by all of my three friends.
Every time I see or hear the word ‘petrichor’, I cannot help but think of someone stealing laboratory equipment.
Hahaha. Please start a podcast. Would definitely be an ardent listener
I don't know how many of your readers read your weekly classics for adding new words to their vocabulary, if they have not I think many will look forward to saturdays to add a word or two to the vocab, like I learnt 2 words: petrichor and C’est la vie.
Rohan, once again a thumbs up to your writing craft and pray that you keep us engrossed with the way you weave magic with your words. Good Work