The Pitter Patter trail

“Ei meghla dine ekla kano thakena ko mon

kache jabo kobe pabo ogo tomar nimontron”

(in this overcast day why does my heart not be calm?

i want to be near you, and thus i seek your invitation)

The start of the rains. As you well may figure, the rains come as a prophet of romance, invoking thoughts and feelings and puts a pinch in the most colorful  corners of thy heart. You spend hours sitting in front of the window thinking of the one you love and imagining on how she may be doing the exact same thing, or you may sit and think of home, which, as situation dictates is in a far off place. One starts missing and reminiscing. It brings within its little droplets consolation for the sighs of a hectic summer. Farmers look up in prayer to the Gods thanking them for their bounty that he so showers to bring peace and cool on the land. Poems are written, songs are sung, umbrellas are held up with a smile, hands are held and dances are staged on gutters with ankle deep of soil water. Everything changes through a swift shower that comes about at times, Some places experience with anticipation others with surprise. Nevertheless, rain is something that is well look forwarded to as a sign of relief, A spray that washes off all that is hot and sweaty, and dry and dusty. Something that cleans away the past,with a clear stream of the present, bringing on its shoulders the promises of a calm future ahead. In  a split shower all the frowns turn into a smile. Rain is the savior that saves us all.

But only for a while.

“Bajra manik gnatha tomar boron dala
Bame rakho bhoyonkori bonya maron-dala”

(your garland is made of thunder

but thou keep aside the garland of floods)

The rains that start as a sign of pleasure, as a symbol of positivity soon turn into storms. Strong winds rage through the land making it devoid of all the flora that it may have nourished. The water chases people out of there homes and this is perhaps the only time that homeless people can’t even take to the streets for shelter. As the rain gives way to floods, the hopes give way to despair. The crops that one grew under its promise now perish to its flow. The songs change in mood and people pray to see the sun once again, the same sun that scorches their lives. It proves again that all that is good is temporary, everlasting happiness yet again turns into a myth. The kids who went out to play in the rain just last week, sit on the bed all day as the floors of his home are flooded. Trees clog roads and cars make way to boats. The khichdi that they once made to celebrate the showers has now turned into a daily square meal. It does not taste the same anymore, All the ingredients are the same its just that the ladle now turns in a different mindset. The newspapers get busy recording the number of deaths, the priests get tired chanting slokas to shoo the rain away, the amount of recorded rainfall now raises eyebrows instead of spreading the lips. Calm turns to catastrophe.

But not for long.

“Clouds come floating into my life 

no longer to carry rain or usher storm 

but to add color to my sunset sky”

Well no matter how many dark clouds may cover up one’s horizon, that does not make its silver lining a lie. After weeks of painting the town “wet” when the clouds finally give up on their strength and feel its best to make way for the sky , the world unravels in a state of joyous excite. It rejoices the sun once again, looks up at the sky with eyes of hope , only this time the color is blue and not grey. The sun brings about a new morning, promising that “everything is gonna be all right”. The ray of faith shines on the worlds face and it smiles again. Distance perhaps does make the heart grow fonder, even the sun plays the part of a parting lover to make the world feel its place in their cycle and as the sun does that the rain takes over its former part. Life is just as round as the earth with a bit of being flat at the edges (well i don’t know why i used this metaphor, it had a nice ring in my head, look for your own explanations !! ) . The rain however does not leave, leaving only, damage, destruction , clogs and floods, it leaves behind several remains of its bounty.Be it the little drops on the edge of leaves, the deposition of silt to nourish the lands, the rainy day holidays, the beautiful smell of the water on the ground while it makes its way back to the sky or be it in the gushing flow of a river that had been dry for years till it came. Rain comes with a smile, fills with a frown and leaves with a smirk.

“Dahane shayane tapto dharani parechilo pipasharta

Pathale tahare indraloker amrito bani barta”

(Heated earth was lying in a scorching bed, thirsty

You send them a celestial message from your land o lord)

Rain, be it a boon or a bane has the power to do one thing that perhaps makes it the most influential of all elements of nature. To cleanse. It cleanses from the road to our doorstep, to the road to our heart, it washes away all that dry bits of our lives and gives them a medium to float on, to live on and most importantly to  feel the importance of light , something that the “modern” nights too fail to do sometimes.

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