Run through the rain!

Well, I was at the Avial Concert last evening and just as the crowd and the band were getting on to full swing, it began to rain. Not just rain, pour.  Since this was unexpected, the crowd went berserk and it turned into utter chaos. But,amidst all this chaos, I found the time and space to enjoy the rain in all its glory. You would know that I am fascinated with rain, if you are regular readers.So while I was  getting soaked n thinking about how much my life has changed since it last rained, I suddenly remembered an old mail a friend had sent and I knew I had to post that here.

“A little girl had been shopping with her Mom in a supermarket. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. All stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Wal-Mart. Everybody waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child come pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.The little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in:

“Mom, let’s run through the rain,” she said. “What?” Mom asked. “Let ‘s run through the rain!” She repeated. “No, honey. We’ll wait until it slows down a bit,” Mom replied. This young child waited about another minute and repeated: “Mom, let’s run through the rain,” “We’ll get soaked if we do,” Mom said. “No, we won’t, Mom. That’s not what you said this morning,” the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom’s arm. “This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?” said Mom. “Don’t you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said, ‘If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!”

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn’t hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes.Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child’s’ life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.

“Honey, you are absolutely right. Let’s run through the rain. If GOD let’s us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing,” Mom said.

Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But….. But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars. And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories…So, don’t forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories everyday. To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.”

I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Last night when I got drenched in the rain inspite of having a vehicle and a shelter, I realised  a lot of things. My life is changing every day but somewhere I seem to have lost the ability to enjoy the things that I used to. I seem to have excuses for not doing things I was supposed to and seem to have less time for people I genuinely love. When the rain washed away all my thoughts yesterday, I smiled like a little girl who was just given a large ice cream to finish! I promised myself that I’d make time to do things and take time to spend with people who really need me in their life. I promised myself that I’d take the time to make more memories.  I HOPE YOU STILL TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN. They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them. Take the time to live…and don’t forget to run in the rain!

Let there be rain

“…These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall 
This is the wonder of devotion – I see the torch we all must hold. 
This is the mystery of the quotient – Upon us all a little rain must fall.”

-The Rain Song,  by Led Zeppelin.

I am back and am happier than last year. Why, you ask. I am happier because I know I’ll have a super year because when the clock struck 12 on 1st morning, it rained! And it rained just the way I liked it. To me it was like washing away all my past, all the hurt, the torture and everything I was sad for last year. To me, the rain told me that this year will be a year I’ll remember in a very happy way. Hmm Lets see……..

I have always loved rain! I have written about it a lot of times! Why do I love it? I don’t know. I just always have.

Rain is an enigma, a symphony, a powerful force, a lifegiver. I love how rain can almost always prove you wrong. You may be angry or frustrated and you angrily walk out into the rain, hoping for some sort of understanding,denial or absolution. As if  the gray clouds and the tiny puddles will give you answers. But before that earth-shattering moment occurs, you are drenched. Completely. Not just by the droplets, but by the smell of rain, and what it does to the environment around you. The rain commands your attention. It’s just you and the rain now. No, you don’t want to attain nirvana, like you first thought in your fit of chagrin. All you want is to roll around in the mud. You want to stomp around in puddles like noone’s watching. You want to love, laugh and live!

For the sulk in you, you can crib about the traffic jams and the floods all you want. Sometimes I do, too.  But you just cannot deny the beauty of this weather. Raindrops falling elegantly on the black asphalt of your potholed road. The exquisite smell of wet mud. The long walk with no umbrella over your head. The element of surprise as it suddenly stops. The glimpse of a rainbow.

Aah so as much as I love to believe that this year definitely has something good in store for me, I must wait for time to tell me if my intuitions are right or not. So Y’all have a super duper year and I hope that you had a great start just like I did.

 

You think I idealize the rains, eh? Call it a genetic defect, that I love.

“Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”

Rain- A love hate relationship.

Hearing the sound of the drizzling rain and the smell of the wet sand made her leave her chair and walk outside to the balcony. The rains reflecting her mood. The rain always stood for different kind of memories and feelings for her. She didn’t really like rains from her childhood. It always gave some kind of wierd feeling. But she enjoyed the rain like everyone else. Loved to watch the sky open up, but still rains always made her wobbly and unsure and it made her lose her sense and that was why she never cherished rain even though she always wanted to.

And today, watching it pour she realized why she and the rain always had this love-hate relationship. It was this rain which had brought love to her and in such ways left her stranded with lots of memories which she hated to remember but they were and will forever be a part of the past which still makes her heart and stomach churn.

Watching the rains she remembered the last monsoon. Happy times.Rains had given her memories of the first touch, the first rain dance, the first romance and the first liveliness. The drizzle of the droplets had given a spark to her life which made her alive and lively…….but today remembering those moments she realized how much the rain and the memories made fun of her.
These memories still haunt her and jolts her with a sense of hate at her disillusioned belief but still the love-hate relationship with rain doesn’t end in a hate-hate relationship. It,s more of love than hate.

All pretty, small and together

They laugh, they dance then wither

Singing a song, they mingle along

Disappearing back to where they belong

Sometimes sorrow, sometimes tears, sometimes anger, sometimes frustration.

Sometimes love, sometimes joy, sometimes bliss, sometimes magical, sometimes dreams.

Sometimes courage, sometimes strength, sometimes fear and sometimes memories.

Rain….A million drops, a million emotions.

Just Imagined

i wrote this in September and do not remember why I didnt publish it then…but as they say, better late than never.

Rains in kerala are unpredictable.  Sometimes a clear sky will pour out and stop as quickly as it started. Last evening,  it started to rain just when I was about to go out and I had no choice but to sit down on the porch and wait for the rain to stop. I sat down and looked outside, trying not to have anything on my mind. The rain in this strange city doesn’t give you much warning. It takes just a few seconds – from the first drop to hit the ground to turning into a full blown shower. The rain didn’t bother me.

I crossed my arms and in between fiddled with my locket and watched the rain. It had already wet the steet and everything on it and the water was flowing down from the chains like it would in a stream.  There was not a soul in sight as far as I could see and no sound but the sound of water flowing and tickling followed by an occasional thunder from high up.

I could picture my knight pulling me by the arm and bringing me into the rain under the sky. I could see my hair wet and dripping. I could see his smile accentuated with many tiny water drops stuck to his curved lips and dripping from his eyebrows.  It wasn’t hard to picture him pulling me closer in the middle of the canopy surrounded by coconut trees and plantain trees and dance to a tune that only plays in his head.

I could picture strong winds and myself in my big old orange jacket. I could see myself hiding behind him.I could see him grinning and calling out my name. I could almost hear my laughter. I could easily visualize a game of hide and seek. I would hide and he would seek. And when he’d find me, he’d pull me  and I would laugh so hard then.

The rain seemed to fade a little then. I could take a risk to start walking again. A drizzle wouldn’t kill me, I told myself. As I got out of the porch and trodded down my street, I looked back. There was no rain, only wet ground. There was no wind, no woman in an orange jacket, no dancing and no knight.

A woman’s imagination runs wild…. And imaginary stories don’t have anywhere to go. If only the feelings they brought were also imaginary….

Monsoon Memories

“The first sounds I ever heard were that of the falling rain.”

Thus  begins Alexander  Frater’s memorable paen to the rains in India, “Chasing the Monsoon.”  A  delightful book that traces the path of the monsoons in India as it first crash lands in the southern tip of Kerala, and then slowly makes its way up through the Indian sub-continent. Frater travels along with the rains, proceeding  through the verdant Konkan coast, making his way into the dry, arid  hinterland of Western and Northern India  before ending his journey in the wettest place on the planet, Chirrapunji, in Meghalaya.A great read any time of the year, And particularly worth a re-read  during the monsoon season !

Most of us  too, I guess, cherish our earliest memories  of  the pitter patter of the falling rain. For, the monsoons are such an integral part of our lives that  the rhythms of  the rain have become an element of our life and existence. Something that is almost embedded into our genetic code and  transmitted through the generations. The rains arouse deep primordial instincts and awaken our senses as the monsoon  plays  its  coy, dating game with us every June. After  the baking and oppressive heat of  summer, we eagerly await its arrival. Soon, the earth is drenched by  the cascading rains, and the parched  soil once again turns  dark  green with dense grass and freshly sprouting shoots.  Even as  the sky is streaked with dangerous flashes of lightning, and the majestic rumbling of thunder  fills our hearts with fear and apprehension,   we are comforted by the  familiar croaking of  bull frogs mating under dripping eaves.  The air is suffused  with the promise of new life. And the occasional year, when the monsoon is delayed, or God forbid,  even delinquent, there is utter panic and despair as  our lives are thrown hopelessly out of gear.

Truly, the  monsoon is inseparable from India and her moods, her arts and her culture. Indians believe the monsoon to be a powerful force that is a gift from the Gods. It is central to our life; it is central to our commerce; it is central to our very being. And most importantly, it has become an inalienable part of our cultural lives. This season of thunder and lightning, swollen rivers, emerald green fields and dark, ominous  clouds  is integral  to our social and cultural ethos. It is a time when  peacocks dance amorously, lovers meet in secret trysts and the senses are over powered by the intoxicating smells of wet, damp earth. It is a unique season; one that creates life, and resuscitates life.

And In Kerala, it  is also a  season for  the traditional rejuvenation of the body. It is a time when  the circadian rhythms of life are suspended and  the pace of life slows down, as the mind and the body are subjected to the centuries old traditions of ayurveda. It is  the  time to revitalize our bodies through oil massages and rest;  a time for  drinking karkidaka kanji and  having thaalu curry. A month  for re-reading the wisdom contained in the pages of the Ramayanam. A time of introspection and contemplation when we renew our bond with nature, as our forebears have done through the ages.

The rainy mornings, the sound of rain right outside the window,the colourful umbrellas and raincoats, the splashing sound that shoes make when children jump on puddles, vehicles that splash water on pedestrians and light vehicles, parents carrying children on their shoulders so that the uniform does not get spoilt, the hot teas and idli’s, the varieties of ‘kanji’, the greenery all around, water everywhere. All these are memories that every mallu man and woman will share wherever they are in the world.

Kerala’s beloved “poet of beauty” the late Vyloppili Sreedhara Menon, wrote in his pastoral idyll,   Varshagamam,

“Like a cooling unguent caressing  the eyes,
Like a melodious symphony soothing  the ears,
Like a fragrant balm nourishing  the body
Comes along a new season of rain………..”

Bellissimo……

It’s time to  celebrate yet another monsoon season.