The rains of my childhood were very romantic. But then , so were most of the things of my childhood. I was a naïve romantic soaked in puritan ideas and ever optimistic in my childhood. I say was because now I am not too sure if I am still romantic or not…but I digress.
I loved rain. Without hesitation. Without worrying how it would turn the simple daily routine of getting to work into a mission hard-to-accomplish. The rainy season was my favourite. The wait from the end of winter (my most favourite season) to the monsoons (my second favourite season) was made bearable only because of all the delicious mangoes of the excruciating, merciless summer days. The rain was a welcome from all things materialistic, and to my young, eager mind it brought along with it numerous possibilities of romantic escapades and carefree, limitless imagination. Romantic notions hit my brain like the kalboishakhi hit the world outside my balcony, suddenly, quickly in an all-encompassing manner. Every day the rain came, and everyday I snuck out of family gatherings, study sessions, or whatever I was doing, and came to watch the rain.
The gale force, the strong winds blowing my hair, the dust that got into my eyes, the torrential bursts and the strong muddy earth scent in the aftermath of the rains left me captivated. I loved to see the first drops of rain kiss the canopies of the trees nearby, and caress the dirt and grime away from the facades of the edifices nearby. I especially loved the clean, crisp air that lingered all around after the rain and the fresh, tingling feeling that it brought along. I sat on the windowsill, staring at the rain, caught up in fleeting thoughts, sometimes reading a book. I watched the rain and thought of all the analogies I could come up with. The torrents were like falling in love head first: unguarded, not goal-oriented, and swept away like a leaf in the crazy storm. The torrents were like words and thought that keep coming to me at a moment of creative spark, without direction, without restrain.
Before that, the rains of my younger days inevitably saw the rain-dance or the rain-shower as we used to call it. We didn’t know of the therapeutic powers of the rain, or of any exotic tribal rituals regarding the raindance; we just did it for fun. The cousins gathered around in a bunch and ran around and skipped about the terrace laughing and screaming. Ok, so it wasn’t exactly ‘The Sound of Music’ or some equally symbolic of juvenile happiness movie. But it was fun as we were carefree and had a lot of fun. Who really cared about growing up?
The monsoon was wet, unpredictable, cloudy, moody, muddy. But I love the monsoons. They were also great sources of inspiration for ahem poetry, etc. They were also a perfect excuse to lose yourself in your thoughts, do nothing, and be at peace with your inner self. I think one particular monsoon day I made an audacious and ambitious attempt at some poetry about rain.
It is far from being something, but I don’t have the nerve to edit. Somehow the unedited version seemed to express more of state-of-being at that particular moment, on that particular day a long time ago.
Monsoon Rain
I.
Frogs croaking;
Air fills with moist.
Dark, heavy clouds race across the distant sky
To hover over the landscape.
Within minutes the blue, blazing sky is
Overcast with condensed tears of heaven
Threatening to burst.
Wind blows noisily, swaying the trees.
Thunder strikes.
II.
Drops of water racing to touch the ground
Drenching everything in its way.
Blurring the horizon .
The rhythm ups its tempo.
The splatter creates a symphony magical.
Damp walls, and darkened colours.
Wet leaves, and running children.
Muddy roads beneath the canopies.
The heady smell of earth lurks in the air.
III.
The sky turns a fresh, pale violet.
The world beneath is a cleaner, cooler place.
And the air is crisp and smooth.
2 comments:
I love rain. I like the sound of wind on Palm tree leaves... it sounds a lot like rain. Why is rain so relaxing? I dont know. Perhaps its the rythmatic dripping. Nevertheless, I wish it would rain today.
Rain is special, its rhythn is hypnotic. Thank you for stopping by.
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