Rain is in the air. The smell of rain is in the air. Refreshing, it makes one yearn for those first few raindrops. Raindrops which'll make one's senses go mad.
For the gentle drop of water that falls from up above, for the wind which comes and laps one's cheeks.... for the sheets of water that tumbles down, as I watch it out of sheer ecstacy. When i taste raindrops, when some of them accidently make way between my lips. Pure, fresh water, that which fills up ponds, trenches, lakes, feeds river...
I sat on the steps, getting zoology into my head. That's when i sensed rain. How i wished it to rain right then. It didn't.
Rain is eluding. Being clever, it tricks weathermen. Various instruments are used to determine it's whereabouts. While we wait for it, to quench parched earth. Hoping for green fields to provide us with food.
When will it appear?
Today, tomorrow, perhaps, a week from now. It's enigmatic, yet enchanting. An entire country, millions of people wait for it day and night. Perhaps, their lives depends on it. Our lives too. And yes, my thoughts as well.
Dark clouds fill the sky, distributing a gloomy atmosphere everywhere. At times ethereal. It's contagious, the dull environment. Bleakness fill our hearts too.
Anita Desai describes the monsoon beautifully in her T'he Village by the Sea'. A boy stands on sands facing the Arabian Sea, with an elderly friend of his. They are there to offer coconuts to the sea on 'coconut day'. Thankful to the monsoon for being kind to them.
While i wait for the inner courtyard of my house to gather raindrops. Standing there, with walls enveloping me for two tiers, and the open sky beyond it. With outstretched arms, and my head bent back on my neck, to recieve them.
The monsoon is here. Well almost. Those first showers, i'll get wet for sure.