MONSOON

The first thought that comes to my mind while thinking about the monsoon is that how favourite this season is with most of the poets and authors. If you go through Ruskin Bond’s works, you will find him focusing on monsoon in Dehradun. Apart from being an amateur poetess, an avid reader myself, I understand the magic of this season. That is because it gives birth to a host of feelings in the reader’s mind. Monsoon can be sweetly romantic; it can be morose and depressing; it can be fresh and cleansing and it can be sad and resigning. In an author’s mind, the monsoon has the potential for being the perfect background of most of the situations that he might prepare.

The word monsoon has been derived from the Arabic word mawsin, which means season. The monsoon is also described as the period of summer rainfall. During this season, the most common picture in Kolkata is the kids roaming about freely in the rain and then explaining to their petulant mothers, with guilty pleasure, that getting wet was unavoidable. The sight of the boats that used to float on the streaming roads has lessened since early years, but has not completely diminished. It is a pleasure to frolic around in the rain. Even the odd sneezes that you suffer from after such bouts seem to add to its glory. I feel it is a welcome release from the fulfilling-certainly; busy-surely; but absolutely routine life that we lead. However that is not the only pleasure.

The mouth-watering, scrumptious fruits that flood the market during this time are proof enough of its prowess. The tangy mangoes, the juicy litchis, the healthy guavas, and many more fruits are perhaps the sole reason that the fruit loving kids pray for monsoon to come early.

Life seems to take a new turn. It seems rejuvenated, just like the smell of the wet earth that make our nostrils flare. The flowers, cleaned by the droplets of water shake their heads and get prepared to earnestly bloom some more.

The famous ‘muri and telebhaja’ (puffed rice and vegetable fries) combination is also a product of this season. To rush back home and find your house immersed in darkness because of a power failure with only one candle light flickering and your mother’s tender laughing face beckoning you to come and try out the muri and telebhaja is a dream unto itself.

There are its shortcomings too, but you, in your heavenly happy state tend to ignore it. Who would think about the damage it does to the industry and agriculture when you only selfishly remember the blinding smile in your little sister’s face when she splashes about gleefully in the rain. She cannot speak, but her sparkling eyes, the gurgles that begin deep in her throat, and the utterly blissful expression that you see on her face makes you decide that whatever gives so much pleasure has to be God’s most beautiful gift.

Monsoon, like all the other objects of this universe is really God’s gift on earth. And nature responds voraciously to this blessing. The trees dancing in happiness, the winds singing in glory, the splash of the droplets on the waters of the river, rivulets, lakes and seas- all this is music. Music that is elemental, that is deeply touching and that makes a mark in your heart.

How many names we have for this rainy season. But now it seems as if only one does it justice- the music of God!
Yes! God gave us everything, this earth to live in, the water to drink, the air to breathe and music to hear. As I started, remember I said that monsoon is the favourite season for poets and authors? But now the only vision that floods my mind is Tansen singing passionately the Megh Raga and God awarding him as rain starts pouring in torrents and he sings on…and on…and on.