After The Rains

                                                                           

“Rain, rain, go away!

Come again another day.

Little Johnny wants to play.”

I have often wondered about the lyricist of the above nursery rhyme. He must have been a staunch hater of the rains! Otherwise, why wouldn’t he allow little Johnny to play in the rain?!

Those of us who have played in the rain would know what joy it pours forth. In the place that I hail from, kids are always shielded from this nature’s splendour. At the same time there are no qualms in escorting kids to those water theme parks. Quite ironic, isn’t it? Parents in Kerala, I have noticed, associate rain with fever, cough, cold, flu and what not! By doing so, aren’t they depriving kids of bundles of happiness?

 Without having cycled in the rain, splashed and kicked water, fallen into a muddy puddle and simply run in the cold downpour, how would they know the taste of the rains? Even the phonetic sound of the very word rings in a lot of nostalgia in me. Rains are something that we, in Kerala, get in abundance, but not enjoyed to the fullest.

Children at my neighbourhood school, run by Mary Roy, mother of the Booker prize winning author Arundhati Roy, were taught to run and revel in the rains, swing in the tyres hung down tree branches, make chapaties and paint on the walls at a young age.

Schools should turn into creative spaces that nurture ideas, boost creativity and promote happiness and well being of each student. Sadly, such spaces are a rarity in our country. Before I divert and find myself talking about schooling and privatisation of education (which are important topics that require a separate segment in itself), let me get back to what I was talking about. 

I had a perpetual longing for rains yesterday. The hot, humid atmosphere was soaking up my clothes in sweat and I had gulped down glasses of chilled water. During my cold shower, a much needed respite in this temperature, I wished hard for some rain.

Thank Heavens! (Literally)
 I was woken up today morning by the sound of the torrents splashing against my window sills. It excites me tremendously to watch the net curtains swaying to the winds during the rains.  I jumped out of the bed to watch the gleeful, spirited leaves and branches dancing in the rain. Though the rains were short spelled and the sun was soon out from the ashen clouds, nothing could stop my excitement. A stroll outside, was all I was looking forward to.

 That’s when we could watch the raindrops on the leaf blades, shake a flexible branch and let the water drip on our faces, step on to the 'bathed' earth and smell the rain kissed air. Strauss, (I just realised that I haven’t written about him on this blog yet. Strauss is my doggie, named after the French structural anthropologist Claude Levi Strauss. As it happens with me always, I wait for THE auspicious moment to beckon and the writing muse to grace the occasion to pen down the best of the things. In the process, the best things are sometimes not written at all.) who didn’t seem excited,  was sniffing his way in search of some lost, mythical bone.  

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The wet logs, the path laden with all the fallen leaves from last night’s shower, the drenched leaves of all shades and shapes could make for a perfect frame for an ‘after rain’ postcard.

Hunted by hunger pangs, I returned to the warmth of home and the comfort of the kitchen. Sipped some lime squeezed green tea  before I started chopping the onions, ginger, chillies and tomatoes for the upma breakfast.

What a refreshing way to begin the day!