Lost Paper Boat

I have forgotten how to make them; paper boats, but I remember the monsoons of my childhood when we bustled in the excitement of the first rains. They brought a shower of emotions with them, the sense of the coming summer holidays, the anticipation of playing in the rain and other such things one forgets with time…or maybe that’s just me.

The heat would drop back a little to allow a mild but persistent breeze to blow the darker clouds in. There was a novelty to it…having the sky pointed out to you while you looked in wonder at it darkening. The wind would pick up, and play with the leaves left behind on the street and then you heard it. The deep rumbling of a thunder which was still awe inspiring. It was then that you knew (or were taught to know) that the rains were truly here.

Running back in glee from fields to shelter as the smell of the earth rose around us. Cold rain drenched our clothes as we laughed at each other. Crowded beneath narrow ledges we longingly peered out as we heard teachers trying to keep us in with tales of fever and cold.

I remember dormitories busy with tearing out pages to make paper boats, the warmth of festive chatter, happy faces. I struggled with the folds of paper that never resembled a boat, someone would always help me and we cheered for each other as we watched our boats navigate the miniature mud canyons. After all these years, it still comes back too easily…