Rain Raga

Beneath the banyan tree, a woman sat singing some ragas. She was singing in her melodious voice some songs that invited the monsoons.  The land was dried up and the sky devoid of any trace of rain and the people draped in cottons gathered around with the sun scorching their brown skins.

The ragas reverberated in the blazing summers and were offered to the gods of the sky and the wind and the people remembered all the occasions when the land was blessed with rain in the scorching summer season. The children from the village played by the dried up temple pond, thinking of the days where they splashed in the cool water, sat idly in the cool recesses of the rocks, or sat chattering with the juice of ripe mangoes oozing on their hands and faces.

The singer went on singing and the people listened to the songs that praised the advent of the rains: oh you rain; much awaited the boon of heavens that brings joy to the earth, solace to the people, oh you rain, come with thunder and lightning and soak our brown skins with delight. Oh rain, the fulfilment of forecasts and incessant prayers, I invoke you in the names of the barren earth, the dried up rivers and lakes, the animals and birds, the silent trees and the people on earth.

The rains were invoked to end the blazing afternoons of summer heat with the first drops of summer rain and you set the warm smell of earth rising and you bedeck trees with jewels like brides, from furnace hot afternoons to nights of restless pace. It is for the rains, incense is burnt and prayers chanted and it is for you, the comforter on hot summer days. The land and the people waited for the comfort offered by the summer rains. However, the singer went on crooning the rain songs and soon and suddenly a wind blew over the land. The trees began to sway with the gust of wind and grey clouds rose to silhouette the sky with hints of a sudden outburst.

Then it started raining heavily. With the advent of the rain clouds, the entire city rejoiced as the wait was over. The days of drought are finally over and the soft rain pelted over the crowd with bolts of thunder and lightning. The people received in open hands stretched to skies what the heavens granted as comfort from the scorching heat of Indian summer. The rain fell over the land and the people danced in the rain with the beaming children screaming with delight when the droplets of rain drenched their brown bodies. The singer sat drenched still humming the megh malhar raga.

 

Rain

It was a day taken out of the movies- the rain, coffee and us. We had to get back to work and on an impulse, we walked in the rain. There was a couple ahead of us, with the woman covering the man’s head with the pallu of her sari. This made us laugh and I think what I thought was that my flimsy dupatta was not enough to cover you. 

I don’t think there was a magical day like that one and I couldn’t sleep a wink that night because of my new-found knowledge that I had fallen in love with you.I tried talking to you but the words did not come out and I couldn’t say anything meaningful to you. Now, looking back what I feel is that this would have ended that day had I taken some courage to say what I wanted. 

But what always happened was that I knew that we came from two different worlds of understanding and spoke in a common language only when it was necessary. The rest was all my making, an imaginary world where I was rejected and where I wrote words after words about you. What remains of a walk in the summer rain are some memories and so many words scattered across endless pages. Though these sound so immature and childish, these words were my way to get out of a habit of worshipping you like a God.