The Rain's Madness: A Tale of Senses and Sanity

The rain felt like a madness or high fever patient. That heavy, cloudy rain deprived people of their sight and smell as it slowly eroded away. Once the rain stopped, all one could feel was this buzzing calm, reminiscent of dying before receiving a last gift from God. But in this rain, Isabel and others might have perceived things differently. She heard what others said to her but couldnt locate the person she had heard. She sat out in the rain, only to find that perhaps she was actually lying down. She believed it was Friday, yet it was Thursday. The final foghorn of a train carrying on through the heavy rain seemed to be fading away, signaling her drowsy wanderlust is giving waythough things seem far from over, as if written in the conclusion. This entire text leaves me feeling like an impliedAllahu Akbar! The whole piece makes me think that invasion caused suffering to colonized peoples, including erasing their memories and five senses, which in turn made them lose their sense of self. Those who opposed the invasionlike that stubborn cowwere slowly killed by their inertia. Many others seemed indifferent to this sorry state. Isabel, as a protagonist, feels her sanity is fraying under these irrational feelingsan imbalance of reason she cant make sense of. This mirrors what I felt while reading One Hundred Years of solitude by Carlos Mariana. The author conveys inexpressible emotions and thoughts through odd natural phenomena. Often, when we look at , besides anger we dont know how else to feel. But Mr. Marianas work gave me a sense of historical sorrow and impotence. This is how it was, but why? Just like why the rain fell for so long, why people forgot what they had forgotten, and why those bodies floating in floodwaters were real or fakeno eyes could see, no ears could hear, no nose could smelland we had to close our eyes ear drums and cover our noses. Then I felt my heart turned into a frozen stone. I thought, Im dead! My God, Im dead!

And thats exactly what they did as the rain grew into a massive tree over other trees.

We no longer felt it was falling; we could see nothing but the outline of the trees in the mist with a sad and desolate sunset that left a lingering tastejust like the memory of a stranger after youve had your deepest sleep. We were paralysed drugged by rain, surrendering to natures collapse with an indifferent acceptance. The only thing moving was the cow in the afternoon. Suddenly, her inner world was shaken as her hooves sank deeper into the mud. For half an hour, she stood motionless as if she had already died but couldnt fall because lifes habits prevented herthe habit of being alive stopped her; the habit of staying put in the rain until that gave way to her body. Then she swung her hind legs (her dark shiny haunches still raised in a final agony) and let her smelly snout sink into the mud, slowly surrendering herself to the full weight of her being in a silent gradual humble fashion. On Thursday morning, the smells died down, the sense of distance was gone. Times notion had been shattered since yesterday and completely erased. Then there was no Thursdaywhat should have been Thursday felt like a jiggly gel-like substance that couldve been touched with bare hands to look into Friday. There were no men or women there. My stepmother, my father, the Indiansall of them were bloated strange bodies in winters marshes. My father said to me: Dont move from here until youre told what to do, and his voice was distant and indirectunperceived by ear but felt through touch, which was the only sense that remained alive.

Then I realized it had calmed down; all around us a silence stretched outa tranquility, a mysterious deep peace, a perfect state akin to death. Then footsteps could be heard on the veranda. A clear completely-living voice was heard. Then a cool breeze shook the doorknob made the doorknob creak, and a solid monumental body, like a ripe fruit fell deeply into the cistern in the courtyard. Something in the air revealed an invisible person who was smiling in the dark. Good Lord! I thought then, confused by the jumble of time. It wouldnt surprise me now if they were calling to take me to last Sundays Mass.