He is my kind of rain. My confetti falling from heaven.

Listless mornings melding into  the afternoon torpor, and you will find me sitting in front of my laptop in my tiny room here with its tortoise printed curtains of a ticklish blue. The blackberry plugged into the speakers, music wafting through the them- some lyrics sustained,a few sublime notes, pure like untouched nectar, sometimes a feet bewitching number. I do not usually keep my tube light on, preferring to pamper my laziness with the slumberous glow of halogen lamps. Somewhere in the backdrop hums, the distant crescendo of buses, cars, two wheeler, voices. Calcutta  being a concrete jungle does not offer much of a piquant view, but, when I stare out of my window, growing the whimsical wings of a daydreamer,  I notice the purple-orange blush of the night sky. It seems like stammering lights from the buildings below had stumbled upon together and suffused the polluted and corrosive black to a somewhat clumsy gentleness.
Somewhere in that room, in the Niagara of chords and the lullaby of the amber light, I lose myself into the world of dreams. 


My thoughts, they surround me like an impassioned maelstrom. Random, raw, abstract. Nimble footed like the virginal antelope, they tease me, taunt me,beckon tantalizingly. I cannot focus on one, I cannot lift up one tendril of thought from the pool of many.Today,however was different. 


My brother came back home after walking my dog, in a turbulent mood. He is a big fellow, of 17, tall and sinew. He tried to talk,but he flustered, so agitated he was. 17 does not call for much poise and maturity in a boy, and being a protective sister, I tend to be biased about my brother. So, when I say he pummeled his fist into the wall, hurling the golf sticks and kicking the ones that had clattered to the floor, his face a volcanic red, his eyes starting to water, I would say it was justified and that it pained me. Not only me, but my parents. We were all rattled. 


He is a simple soul, my brother. He likes to plug in his earphones, or strum a few chords on the guitar, or merrily make fun of me and my utterly vague nature. Food is what makes him happy, and once again I am not exaggerating when I say he has an expandable stomach and he actually looks crestfallen( so cute! ), when Mom ladles out plain yellow daal for dinner. His life is all about tearing into a crispy chicken leg, persistently ignore my Dad's efforts to wake him up in the morning and he considers it achievement when he can kick me awake just before going off to school. You see, apparently it pains him to see, that while he slogs at school and memorizes his abominable Economics, I am cocooned in the softest arms of sleep, beautiful sleep.
So when a sweetheart like my brother ( once again, a very biased sister), comes back home and kicks at the furniture, cringing with pain, trying to stop tears for he is a boy, and sputters and stutters, overwhelmed by anger, punches into the iron walls, bangs the doors till they sound like a minor blast, obviously we were all scared, pained and surprised.


The story was simple. Buddy being the 3rd child of the family, though noticeably different, for he is a golden Labrador, needs to go for his daily nature calls at 5pm. The society in which we live in, is full of stuck up pricks(pardom my language) and they made this raucous affair of a dog peeing and excreting in the compound. Even though, there were mangy mongrels doing the exact same. Of course, we are not insensitive, so Buddy is trained to do his needful only on grass. But to avoid further confrontation with these annoying pricks(pardon, pardon), Daddy gets the car to drive Buddy to the nearby park at 5 everyday, so that my youngest brother can gallivant around while he does his dump.
Dad was busy today and Buddy treats me like a rag doll, dragging me along the floor. So, I am never sent with Buddy on his nature walks. Brother being "the man", was chosen to take the huffing- puffing, tongue- wagging and tail dancing cartoon of mine. 
Now apparently Buddy peed near a car. Not on the car, but near it. 4 guys, pot bellied and stinking (Brother's description) and somewhere in their 30's ganged up on him, ruffed him by the color, spatting  uncouth words on his face , the words being " How dare your dog pee near our car?".  While one guy acted as a leader, the other three surrounded my brother, ruffian hands ready to take action. My brother justified saying, with all the muck and mud on your car tire's, why are you even bothered about my dog peeing on the road. Not even on your car! But they just told him that dare you come here next time and even if you do, make sure your dog does not come near the cars.


Bastards. Bloody jerks. I hope they rot int hell. How can you do this to a kid taking his dog for a walk? How can you corner him for your own time pass? How can you provoke him, and prick him, abuse him in that one lonely deserted stretch of a road? The wanted to goad him into fighting, and then they would have beaten him down to a bloody pulp. BASTARDS.Why would you even chose to fight for a cause that is so utterly pointless? Just because he is not from your land? Just because you want to? He is just a kid! When you can watch a cricket match together and root for the country, religion caste, goddammit, Why the sudden need to have this obnoxious pride of your community? And cultivate the pride, go on, but honestly.. this way? 


When will we start living for the greater good? When?


By the way, "She is my kind of rain" is a song, I liked. 

In a different sense, my brother is "My kind of rain". Sweet drops of happiness he rains on me, when Life scorches my guts out. 
I could not see him, the way he was today. It hurt.