Thursday, May 11, 2006
Monday, some-date, April
Today was the first rains of the monsoons, in Bangalore. Now, one has to be living in India, to understand the greatness of this concept. In India, the summers come a-charging, white hot heat that blazes down and burns into the skin. So when it starts to rain, the world is happy. At least THIS part of the world is. In England, they probably don’t view the rains with the same joy.
The rain comes suddenly. The first inkling we get of it, when we come out for our coffee break, are the little puffs of cold wind that chill us to the bone. The treetops lean into it, and the leaves murmur madly, almost trying to fly off in the gust. The air turns into one of excited expectancy, like little children getting ready for the “coolest birthday party on the block”.
The wind speed picks up, its blustery weather now. The clouds race pell-mell across the sky, each hurrying to get there first. It’s grey, turning almost black. Billowing across, these are the huge black thunderclouds that carried Zeus and Thor, kings in age-old mythologies, off to war.
And then the rains start. Little droplets, which tell us of better things to come. Some of us run out, pell-mell too, onto the terrace. The remaining boring lot, look at us like we have lost our minds. I open the windows wide, and lean out into the storm, feel the rain on my face, and revel in it.
It’s a welcome end to summer.
That same week, Friday
It has been raining everyday now. In the mornings, it’s hot, searing. Then at 4.30, like clockwork, the sky turns grey. Clouds sweep the sky, gathering like an angry herd. The then, when they judge that the timing is right, the heavens burst. It usually takes about 15 mins, each time, for the whole thing to orchestrate.
The problem is that this weather makes it very difficult to work. This is the ideal weather to sit down on a comfy old chair, wrap something, or someone, around oneself. Grab a steaming mug of coffee, maybe some munchies, and your favorite book, pages old and faded. And of course music playing in the background, in my case, Floyd, U2, and such like.
I run back home as soon as I can escape from work.
You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we walk in the fields of gold
Sting croons in the background. The lights are off, the windows wide open. The rain pelts down outside, and inside I’m toasty warm. There is total quiet, the kiddies in the apartment block have been hustled home by their mothers. The stillness is broken only by the sounds of nature. The rain pelting down on the concrete outside, and hitting window panes with a cracking sound. The sudden gusts of winds that shake the trees, and make the leaves dance a whirlwig. Occasional lightening splits the sky wide open, tears it apart, and I wait for the sound of thunder to follow. I drink in the smells.. of the rain carried in the wind, the wet earth, the trees awash and green.
This is a time of utter quiet and tranquility.