|a view from my veranda:- before the rain brakes|
It’s raining; I can see the transparent drops drumming the banana leaf that knocks my window every night. Stooped by force the leaves are like women clad in green saree, their heads seeking a temporary refuge under the anchal. The well opposite to my window has always been a thirsty one; today I can see it drinking the lusty rain and spilling out of his mouth- it’s overfed.
Someone had remarked on my love for rain few years back, women have over-romanticized rain and Hindi films have a great part in creating this romantic image. The songs from the 50s, 60s 70s & 80s have done wonder in poetizing the phenomena called rain. He was right in his own way, may be rain is overrated, it sure is troublesome for the one who has no umbrella and is drenched till their undergarments. Its messy, it ruins our clothes, it creates puddles on roads and finally that continuous pitter-patter and paach-pecch may make one tone deaf, rain has its side effects. Nothing is perfect after all.
I have always loved rain, I have had an ingrained tendency to run out and play in shower. It’s also true I get irritated with rain too when it breaks above my head while I am riding my bicycle and the droplets turn my glasses opaque converting me into a wild bull on the dark streets. I have many complains with rain, I hate it when it conspires with wind and forces my umbrella to upturn like Marilyn Monroe’s frilly dress. I groan when I can feel my medusa hair has been drenched with dust particles as if water was not enough. I dislike it when the water droplets hit me like bullets on battlefield.
Yet rain calms me. I can see the green leaves bathed, the green field fed and red soil outside my room has calmed its dry soul too. Back in my home the situation will soon be called flood, the calmness there will turn into chaotic decomposing rage. Rain can be brutal, still I long for the peace it brings after the musical session.
I love driving in rain, I love jumping in rain, I want to kiss in rain, I love watching rain fall on the trees and bring down the flowers splattering them on wet grass, I love hearing the constant hammering of earth and I love absorbing the smell of sudden green fire that burns my mother’s kitchen garden.
Yes it’s overtly romantic and based on visual pleasure of a privileged soul. But I too have seen leaky rooftops and placed buckets under them to collect the water, I have had damp walls with a healthy farm of algae turning into a bottle green carpet, I have had snails crawling up my stairs on rainy days, frogs hopping inside my shoes, centipedes hiding inside my cupboard and slugs walking my basin. The aftermath of rain is often gooey and slimy. Still I love sitting beside my caged window, sipping my green tea, watching nature get a long awaited shower and hear the sky wailing as it climaxes inside earth’s crevices. Right now I shamelessly watch the earth having her orgasm.
P.S- I can see a green fire burn around me
thanking you to bear with me