Jungtina Jamir
I love the rain. No doubt about that. I like to sneak out of the office to run in the rain a whole lot. Mom, are you reading this? Don’t kill me for having that bad cold last week; that had you real worried. I promise I’ll stay dry. But only when it doesn’t rain. (grin*)
Some days I look out when it rains and I wonder what it is like to be a drop of rain. What if I am a rain drop? What if the next drop of rain that falls on your nose is me? Most of you who have been reading this part of the paper are convinced that I have the craziest imagination up on my head. (grin*). Last year I met some dead creatures that spooked me out. Last week I met a genie that grated me three wishes and today I am talking about me, a drop of rain?? Anyway, nothing seems to have changed. Huh? Anyway, for those who like to read nonsense might as well as continue reading.
I like to picture a single drop slowly forming inside a cloud until it becomes heavy enough to begin it’s long descent to the earth beneath it, and when it finally begins to fall that drop of rain which is me, is like, “This is gonna be SO AWESOME! WEEEEEE!!”
Midway down, I raise my tiny liquid arms and take a deep breath in preparation of the final splat. Down in Dimapur, the editor of the MEx tells one of the reporters to take the camera and capture the first drops of rain that falls this summer. Just my luck. I am falling straight at the Morung Express office. The Cowgirl in the guise of a journalist, Atongla, stays prepared with a camera. She spots me from below and takes the camera and shoots me. FLASH*
However, the picture makes me look like that heavy kind of water with an extra oxygen atom around the stomach. In other words, I look FAT. I get upset that I look fat in the picture. After all I will be on the FrontPage <PICTURE of the day> I wanna cry! I imagine a teardrop slowly forming underneath my eyes, until I realizes that it’s also made of water and the stern laws of physics take notice and suck it back in.
So, realizing that I can’t very well cry tears to show how sad I am to the rest of the world, writes a Reporters Diary about desolation and the inadequacy of plummeting hundreds of feet to Dimapur to look fat on the FrontPage. The Reporters Diary is then read by you.
As for what happened to me after the FrontPage episode, I fall into a familiar puddle and is overcome with joy when I see all the other drops of water, my colleagues in the office; and I also realize that I am cracking up…. again!
