There is something so beautiful that appeals to me about the monsoons in India. For the starters, I love the smell of the wet soil with the first few showers of rain. After a scorching and terrible summer heat wave, the rendezvous of the grey plush clouds spread over the blue skies is like a long tried painting that finally turns successful.
The dance of the trees to the tune of breeze, the leaves in their truest colors after they are washed off all the dust and the smoke, the little birds taking a fluttering bath in the small puddles and a smile that runs across everyone’s face is Monsoon in India.
Its that time of the year when I step out into the balcony or walk past the Indian homes, familiar with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee or tea along with onion fritters that are being ready to be served on a plate for members returning home safely dry or mostly drenched.
I agree for most of us here, that getting uncertainly wet, crossing the Indian puddles with high risks and less fun and the cemented traffic, is the most tormenting part of it, but still with the shortfalls and the pitfalls, I have adored Monsoons in India as a little girl and even till date.
Monsoons denoting memories of me standing at the window with my mother watching the clouds get bulkier and the skies get darker, waiting patiently for the trees to get into the motion of swaying to declare the approaching rains, the euphoria of the numbered cattle that would come to graze in the limited green landscape that we looked over that window and the chorus chirp of glee, of the birds anticipating the summer relief, is still like a beautiful chapter of my younger days with my mother. This makes monsoons to me. Last year as I happened to experience few days of rains during my stay in Wisconsin, there was certainly something missing that I had been enjoying in India. I stood at the balcony till the thunders forced me to get indoors but despite of its own beauty in the foreign land, I missed the smell of my soil and the excitement and exhilaration with my mother that was part of the season to me.
It indeed is also sad as with the other side of the coin, Monsoons do not favor the homeless or the regions that get adversely hit with tragedies of flood but it also lends us a to chance to come together for the sake of mankind.
With the monsoons again during this time, I still excitedly stand up to see the cloud and breeze activity, holding my bright cup of hot steaming tea, feel the sprints of the shower, still awed with the transition of water into the rain of relief.
Well its true, it takes a lot to get seasoned, to be patient and reap the benefits. So each time you make a sigh through, in your tough times, be assured that it is being well heard somewhere and with consistency and firmness, be even sure that your sighs little by little,shall soon turn into the clouds that rain your rewards tied in the ribbon of a rainbow. Monsoon is just no season alone, to me it is like the impression of our own life.