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.
