A cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other and rain outside my window- an idyllic and perfect afternoon for every avid reader; except that the last element, rain, is not something one can wish for and get in Saudi Arabia. But this afternoon was special. The sky had darkened to a feverish brown-black and it seemed like another sandstorm was in the offing. I put my over-imaginative mind to work and fantasised thunder and lightning followed by the romance of rains. And me lounging on a couch languorously enjoying a book by the window seat. Perhaps God was nearby and sent me some magic dust. It started raining and i decided to make the most of my dull lazy afternoon. I made a cup of tea for myself and perched on a window seat and took in the rains like a thirsty soul.
The rains seem to have that effect on me, of watering my senses and making them feel alive again. It made me ink my thoughts on paper. Nothing profound, nothing overwhelming- just some earnest and honest emotions pouring out like the rains bursting upon a dusty hot afternoon. I think rains seem to have that effect on most of us who happen to be from India. Rains in India do not just happen to be characteristic of the monsoon season, which spans across for almost around four months across most states, but apart from a being a geographical entity it has certain social and cultural connotations as well.
Rains are a life-giver in India which sustains itself economically primarily through agriculture. In that sense, rains are the source of life for its teeming millions. It gives sustenance to thirsty crops which still depend heavily on the Indian monsoons and fills up the myriad rivers of the sub-continent which in turn irrigate the hills and plains, and provide hydel power to light up villages and towns. what a life-giving force the rains are! without the rains we would have been a dry dusty desert and we do not even have liquid gold under our soil.
So that was about the economics of rain. But much as its economic significance may be, i would rather dwell on the romance of the rains. Let the erudite dwell on the intellectual aspects. Lesser mortals like me would rather talk of the poetry and music of the rains. "my heart leaps up..." at the sound of thunder and lightning which augurs the rains. Rains seem to have a wonder, a mystery about them, i could never fathom. The skies darkening during the day with dark angry clouds ready to burst any moment and the dark nights made more mysterious and menacing as thunder rolls across the wrathful skies. Perhaps it is comfort-food for the soul in a paradoxical way. It reminds me of a childhood when rains were bountiful and we would brave the rains with umbrellas and raincoats to go to school; or of rainy soggy evenings when thunder and lightning would send the power scurrying away and we were spared from the tyranny of evening studies in the pleasant damp darkness. and oh yes, before i forget, the sound of the whistling winds on the tin roof accompanied by the pitter-patter of raindrops and the frogs going berserk with their throaty loud croaks in the 'beel' just behind our house.
those times have now been reduced to only a figment of our memories.
In the north of India, where rains are scantier than the north-east of India, people welcome and celebrate the rains by getting wet and dancing in the first outpour. When i first saw this ritual, i found it quite amusing as i came from a place where rains were taken for granted and rarely disappointed anyone during the monsoons. As i made the north of the country my home, i gradually learnt to appreciate and understand this 'rainy' ritual. In fact, many a time i have myself danced in joyous abandon in the first rain of the season. Now that i am far away from my home country in a desert land, my thirsty soul yearns for those rumblings of thunder and lightning, the earthy smell of the parched soil after the first shower, and the rain falling incessantly quenching the tired and the thirsty. time and place have taught me that rain is indeed a blessing. Amen.
The rains seem to have that effect on me, of watering my senses and making them feel alive again. It made me ink my thoughts on paper. Nothing profound, nothing overwhelming- just some earnest and honest emotions pouring out like the rains bursting upon a dusty hot afternoon. I think rains seem to have that effect on most of us who happen to be from India. Rains in India do not just happen to be characteristic of the monsoon season, which spans across for almost around four months across most states, but apart from a being a geographical entity it has certain social and cultural connotations as well.
Rains are a life-giver in India which sustains itself economically primarily through agriculture. In that sense, rains are the source of life for its teeming millions. It gives sustenance to thirsty crops which still depend heavily on the Indian monsoons and fills up the myriad rivers of the sub-continent which in turn irrigate the hills and plains, and provide hydel power to light up villages and towns. what a life-giving force the rains are! without the rains we would have been a dry dusty desert and we do not even have liquid gold under our soil.
So that was about the economics of rain. But much as its economic significance may be, i would rather dwell on the romance of the rains. Let the erudite dwell on the intellectual aspects. Lesser mortals like me would rather talk of the poetry and music of the rains. "my heart leaps up..." at the sound of thunder and lightning which augurs the rains. Rains seem to have a wonder, a mystery about them, i could never fathom. The skies darkening during the day with dark angry clouds ready to burst any moment and the dark nights made more mysterious and menacing as thunder rolls across the wrathful skies. Perhaps it is comfort-food for the soul in a paradoxical way. It reminds me of a childhood when rains were bountiful and we would brave the rains with umbrellas and raincoats to go to school; or of rainy soggy evenings when thunder and lightning would send the power scurrying away and we were spared from the tyranny of evening studies in the pleasant damp darkness. and oh yes, before i forget, the sound of the whistling winds on the tin roof accompanied by the pitter-patter of raindrops and the frogs going berserk with their throaty loud croaks in the 'beel' just behind our house.
those times have now been reduced to only a figment of our memories.
In the north of India, where rains are scantier than the north-east of India, people welcome and celebrate the rains by getting wet and dancing in the first outpour. When i first saw this ritual, i found it quite amusing as i came from a place where rains were taken for granted and rarely disappointed anyone during the monsoons. As i made the north of the country my home, i gradually learnt to appreciate and understand this 'rainy' ritual. In fact, many a time i have myself danced in joyous abandon in the first rain of the season. Now that i am far away from my home country in a desert land, my thirsty soul yearns for those rumblings of thunder and lightning, the earthy smell of the parched soil after the first shower, and the rain falling incessantly quenching the tired and the thirsty. time and place have taught me that rain is indeed a blessing. Amen.
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