A Morning Washed in Monsoon

 Every morning, my drive to Kannur Dental College follows a familiar rhythm,  a quick breakfast, keys in hand, the engine humming to life, and the same winding route through the quiet stretches of Tazhe Chovva - Anjarakandy. But today, the rain had rewritten everything. It had started raining sometime during the night, not the loud, stormy kind, but a steady, soaking monsoon rain that seemed to cleanse the air and slow the world down.

As I started the car, the wipers began their lazy dance across the windshield. The road from home to the college that usually stood still on either side of the road now swayed gently, droplets falling from their leaves in slow motion. The red earth had turned darker, and little streams had started to form along the edges of the road, gurgling playfully.

The usual bustle was muted. Fewer people stood at bus stops; Schoolchildren with plastic raincoats and colourful umbrellas   walked along the edge of the road, their movements cutting through the stillness. As I drove past the familiar bends and narrow turns of the Anjarakandy route, something about the silence made me slow down a little more than usual. I turned off the music. The only sounds were the rain tapping on the roof and the occasional splash as I drove through water-filled dips in the road.

40 minutes of drive, the college loomed into view, its white buildings now framed by grey skies and dripping trees. I parked under the big neem tree near the gate and waited for a few moments inside the car, watching the water trail down the glass in crooked lines with the shadow of the sun above 

                      

Despite the fogged-up glasses , I felt oddly content. There was something peaceful about this drive, a quiet reminder that even the most familiar journeys can feel new when the skies decide to change the mood.