Have you ever wondered, what an interesting part of the day afternoons are?
Between the subsiding freshness of the morning and the anticipated calmness of the evening lies an almost reticent normalcy of the afternoons—not ready to reveal how it’s going to make you feel, just yet.
It’s like a transit stop in the long journey of the day. You start somewhere in the morning, and you have some idea of where you’re going to reach by the evening. But you have no real plans for the afternoon. You could either relax and be lazy and take a nap or you could be curious and enthusiastic and work on a project. You could go out or you could stay in. You could love it or you could hate it. You could make it boring or you could make it special. Either way, the afternoon is possibly the most neutral part of the day with no clearly defined purpose.
Yet, these afternoons carry so much meaning. Each one of them instills a different kind of nostalgia — depending on what it has to bring along with itself.
Silent, pleasant afternoons remind me of the autumn months of September and October from back in India when as a kid I would sit on the balcony of my house, quietly observing what was happening outside —a couple of commuters passing by, a bunch of children returning back from school, a trio of pigeons fighting over a piece of a ledge, a tiny sparrow foraging for food, and a street dog yawning lazily in a corner.
Hot, noisy afternoons remind me of the busy working days at my first job, sweltering with the heat and humidity of Mumbai, accompanying a feeling of hecticness and chaos.
The most beautiful ones, however, are probably the rainy afternoons. Even in my imagination, I can recollect the scent of the dampness in the air after the first few drops of the initial monsoon rains.
As a child, I would eagerly await the start of monsoon season, knowing that it would mean endless hours spent indoors with family, having pakoras (Indian tempuras) for breakfast or snacks and a hot cup of adrak wali chai (ginger tea).
The pitter-patter of raindrops against the windowsill and asbestos roofs was a sound that brought immense joy and comfort, and I remember spending many hours just staring out at the grey skies, lost in thought. There was something about the way the rain just came and went away, seemingly washing away all the dirt and grime from the city streets and fictitiously making everything seem fresh and new.
There was also the excitement of being able to cancel school, stay at home, and indulge in activities that were otherwise reserved exclusively for weekends. One of the most vivid memories for me is that of drying all our washed clothes under the fan in the living room because the weather in Kolkata would get so humid that the clothes wouldn’t dry on their own.
Oh, how I would spend hours lost in a book, a random activity, or a conversation with family, with the sound of rain serving as a gentle background score!
Sometimes, it would pour heavily for up to four days straight. The streets would then get filled with water up to the knees. People would still venture out, sometimes for work, other times just for fun (I think). Splashing around in the puddles, with raindrops falling all around—it was an experience that still makes me feel elated and irritated at the same time.
As I’ve grown older, rainy afternoons have taken on a different kind of significance. They’ve become a time for introspection and reflection, a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Sitting inside a high-rise apartment with tightly closed windows, my ears no longer hear the sound of raindrops falling against the windowsill-but my mind still does. The soothing background score still makes me feel lazy enough to procrastinate work and curl up with a good book, or pursue a creative endeavor like writing this article.
Ironically enough, I never liked getting wet in the rain. It is just the sight of rain pouring down that fills my heart with a sense of joy and contentment.
Perhaps then, the role of a neutral afternoon—or the transit stop—is to provide ample time between the start and the end of a day, or the journey, to pause and reflect that this period of normalcy—sometimes boring and sometimes special—provides the much-needed meaning to both the excitement of starting anew and the serenity of winding down.
Only during an afternoon could I really think of that.
This story was also published on the Medium publication Scribe. Follow me on Medium if you haven’t yet.
