The Rains

The rains have gone away finally…unless the raindrops decide to surprise us during October. This monsoon has been a disappointing story — no soaking in the raindrops, no singing under the clouds in gay abandon. Leave aside one rainy evening at a cafe. The flooded streets, the dangerous man-holes in the midst of all those talks about Gujarat model of development has robbed me of my romance with the rains. While rummaging through old files on my desk top, I found this piece on the rains which I wrote some years back. So, here goes an ode to the lost romance of raindrops.



Rice, fish curry, mashed potato with a dash of mustard oil and pouring rains —  that’s early childhood memories. Sitting for hours near a window and seeing the rains lashing against the lamp post always came naturally to me. Rains are much more than manna from heaven. They bring back smells of wet earth of a land I left years back, they bring back memories which come and kiss on the cheeks but then gently go back again to the never-ending paddy fields of a verdant earth.
Rains falling on the roof of my house lulled me into sleep as I curled up in my comfortable bed. They were not just falling rain drops they were like God singing lullaby in the middle of an otherwise silent night.
Rains bring back images of Ma waiting with a towel in the veranda as I returned from school all drenched. Rains bring back memories of me and my younger sister dancing away to glory in the garden just as the clouds became darker and darker.
Rains bring back memories of a stern teacher coming to the class and declaring that “It’s a rainy day”…. The clanging of bells didn’t matter after this much-waited announcement. The desire to run away was too intense. The calling of the rains was too intimate.
Rains bring back songs from yesterdays on the CD player. Raj Kapoor and Nargis singing ‘pyaar hua ikraar hua’ under an umbrella was probably one of those first brushes with the world of romance and it also made one see that other aching side of love with those immortal words ‘Maloom nehin kahan manzil. ’Years after even as I am waiting for the rains in a desert state like Gujarat, I have gently let my ‘manzil’ to fly past my window.
Rains bring back memories of that tempestuous night when desires and hopes softly met on a rock in the last range of Aravalis. It couldn’t have been more perfect. Even years after, I still can feel that magical touch, the stillness of the night and the ever elegant raindrops. The rain soaked lamp post for a change looked like an invader into an intense world of love and longing.
Today soporific stillness hangs heavily in the air. I am looking at the sky with a longing eye. Will it rain today? I say it with a silent prayer. The door has been kept ajar just to let the gushing rains enter into my room and embrace me with all its warmth.
It will not just be rains….. It will be a collage of images and people peppered with memories of love, longing, desire,  and much more. And may be I will go back to that memory and sing  ‘Yeh sahar bahut purana hai’ along with the lashing rains. And who knows it might be an Equal Music. As they say.

(The picture is clicked by Ano Patel, a young  journalist and whose camera, I think weighs more than her weight… yet she manages to capture lovely images.)


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