Rain Song

This year summer blazed with such ferocity that the thought of rains seemed like a distant dream.

As I have said in my earlier post, rains came sparingly at first then in sudden bursts and now it’s pouring in torrents for the past few days.

Our city is dusty. A good shower washes away all the dirt and dust, especially, on big trees, where our hands cannot reach up, giving the green leaves a shiny coat of newness and vibrancy.

You can see a few drooping leaves in the picture but now they are all fresh and bright. Their lethargy  showered away.

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I like the sound of rain. It’s like music with a constant beat. A rhythmic fall of waters from the heaven with a cosmic cadence.

To some it may sound monotonous. But rains in the rainy season is mood uplifting. It is harbinger of cool and happiness. When the summer heat touches the maximum we look forward to rains as it signifies a change of season. An end to the burnings and seering.

But the same rain of the winters is depressing because it does not bring in any new hope or joy. Winter rains mean  greyer, chillier and duller days ahead with overcast sky.

It’s a wonder that the same rain in different seasons has different meaning and mood. It is something we look forward to in summer whereas it is not a welcome guest in winter.

We hardly have rains in spring or autumn. So I don’t know how it will colour our lives if it rains in these two seasons.

But as of now I love to watch the trickle of water on the glass panes. The sudden roar of clouds. A  streak of lightening. The flow of water on the streets. The colourful umbrellas walking past the window or drying on the porches. The treacherous puddles on roads. Kali silently asking for shelter drenched to the end of her last fur. Maasi quietly slithering in. She knows how to unlatch the main gate. Chukchuk eagerly wagging her tail right outside with an expectant look on her face.

Rinky in a bleached red raincoat returning home after a water walk. She is the only one who loves to walk in the rains, splashing into the puddles and dirtying herself. Kanhai, her walker, opening up the checked umbrella on the balcony to dry. He takes the big pink towel off the clothesline to give her a good rub to clean the splatter of mud on her chest  legs and paws.

The steaming cup of chai on the centre table beckons me to pick up. I am still groggy but the rain song plays on a loop in the back of my mind. I make a note of making a meal that will go with the  day – something  hot and spicy and crispy!!!

That’s how a rainy morning begins.

Then the series of worries. Where to empty out the washing machine. There’s no space to dry the half wet half dry clothes. If the house helps do not turn up on time or at all ? Are the drains overflowing again? Is the water level rising in the lanes? Is the AC dripping ? 

At times I just sit on the porch and watch the sky – a bluish gray in the day …. a smoky red in the night. Stars are not to be seen. The moon is in hiding in some obscure cloudy corner. That means it will rain again later into the night while we sleep. The day next will bring in its own share of puckered brows or revelry.

Till then let me enjoy the pitter patter or a drizzle or a full outburst – the symphony of Mozart!!