Wet Street – Memoir


From the window of my apartment I look down at the gleaming wet streets in contrast with trees suffused with misty light. The twilight effect is mesmerizing. It has rained all day as if the sky wanted to share my hurt and loneliness.

Now the night is slowly slipping in. The neon lights have made a pond of brilliant bluish white light around every light post. A lonesome dog shivers and looks around for a dry place to spend the night.

Shadows fall on the glistening wet street, a magical display of dark and light. A car zips pass making a splash from the puddle. The water slowly settles down again. The loneliness stretches its dark shadow over the slippery wetness.

The dark clouds have moved away leaving a cleansed night sky. Soft thin cotton clouds drift lazily revealing a yellow full moon. I can see the naked stilettos of trees dark and mysterious against the lights in valley below.

The lights like fire flies seem as if a galaxy of stars has descended on earth. The sweet pine-needles are scattered on the wet streets release an intoxicating fragrance mixed with the smell of the wet earth and tar.

I decide to walk the lonely road. My bare feet feel the cold and wetness of the dark serpentine street. They seem to be numb, devoid of all feelings like the street itself. A little ahead the street glistens in  reflection of a solitary gaslight. I seem to be the only person living. The dark, lonely, dismal, deserted wet street weighs upon my spirit and sorrow.

I try to see my reflection in the moonlit puddle on one side. A phantom like image stares back at me. I pick a pebble and drop it in the water disturbing the dark face filled with agony and pain.

My shoes make a squeaking sound at every step which echoes through my mind. I try to cut out the sound. I love silence of the quiet wet street. I stop at the turn and gaze at the winding glistening street flowing down the valley. It is time to return. Reflecting on the events of the day and thinking of how we had walked in joy those very rain splashed streets I let a tear fall and mingle with the wetness.

The brilliant moonlight had draped the wet dark street with a thin silvery sheet. It gives me a sign of hope, of a new day about to come. Of a change that will help fade away the darkness of my soul and heart just like the moonlight did with the wet street. My feet shine as I walk on the wet silvery street of hope.

3 thoughts on “Wet Street – Memoir

  1. Loved your emotion soaked post 🙂

    It was a beautiful picture of a rainy night drawn on the canvas with wonderful wonders.

    Keep up the good work 😀 😀

    Cheers!!

    Thank you so much dear one. I am happy the rain could bring joy to you.
    Cheers!!!

    Like

  2. …………i would hate to typecast, but i can feel subtle similarities with ‘kiran desai’, in your writings.

    irrespective, i love to read your posts.

    Thanks Prashat. you like my work, I AM HONORED. KEEP VISITING

    Like

  3. Loved your poetic and sensuous prose.But without wanting to hurt your dreams nor that of W.B.Yeats, tell me how is it that your shoes started squeaking when you were walking barefoot.

    Like

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