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wishing for rainy traffic jams

The heat has been oppressive. Four month long, uninterrupted oven of a city. Well, a sauna actually. a sauna that uses hot sand and car fumes instead of steam. Gurgaon is a fucking pollution-powered sauna in the summer. We are sure to face water shortage this year. Inflation is going to skin our appetites.
and then the most amazing thing happened today morning. Grey clouds appeared.
After weeks of evading rains, Gurgaon is finally hosting the gray clouds, albeit reluctantly. Its been quite a few hours since their arrival and yet, no rain is forthcoming. (excuse the sad excuse for a sprinkle a little while ago.)
I imagine people and animals would spontaneously erupt in joyous break dance when the rain come to stay.
McDonald's and KFC will serve only pakoras and chai.
I imagine the collective gazes of a million expectant eyes on the clouds would punch little holes in the clouds through which water will pour out.

and then I overheard a girl complaining about the impending rain "Can you imagine the traffic Jam on MG road now".

What do you say to that? 
When did convenience became so integral to our lives to the exclusion of everything else around us?
What does it mean that your first reaction to an obvious good thing is a complaint about convenience? 
Why is it that you are detached to the people who are going to benefit from this rain.. I understand that the efforts needed to get water to your tap is inivisble to you, paid for in your society maintenance. But surely, you should be aware of what water means to us (humans)?
Why is that you are detached from the earth and air.. I understand that you forever live in air conditioned bubbles and never dare step out of one. Do you have any idea what you are missing out on? If you can't enjoy the drop of rain on your skin, the gust of wind on your cheeks, would you ever really know intimacy?

 if rain were fueled by wishes, i would be really worried now.

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Withdrawal symptoms

Ctrl-tab
Ctrl-tab...
Scroll Scroll Scoll..
Alt-tab
Alt-tab...
Catch yourself slipping away.

Deep  breath. 

Close the browser. silence the mobile and turn it away.

Open an offline-real-paper diary. Stop your thighs from lolling impatiently. Stay still. 

Pick up a pen awkwardly. ahh, the fingers are stiff. It will take a  while for them to get used to holding a pen. Quick finger exercise - open the palm, stretch finger outwards, close into a fist, dig the fingers in. Repeat.
Ok now.. about to pick up the pen again, but eyes dart towards the screen. Tempted to check email.

Shut up. The last consequential email came two months ago. Nothing of consequence is online.

Pick up the pen. Don't fetishize the object now. Get on with it. Put it on paper, write a word and start it already. If I get to a sentence, perhaps I will get into a flow and won't have to look up from the paper at all. 

One sentence later.

Ahh. That was good. I am feeling good about myself. The sentence makes sense. …

Value

Things turn into cash
once they are stripped of their lives -
their breath,
their freedom,
their dignity
or their joy.

A fish on the table
and a cubicle dweller..
both are united in their solvency,
their ability to be stripped of their lives and turned into money.

This solvency is our own making
Hold up your hands against the sun and your favourite gods
Do they dissolve? 
Hold up your heart and see if it beats for them
Hold your joys in your hands and fling them towards the system,
does it stick?

For a better world
first we need to walk away from this world.