Each bout of rain comes down with myriads of expressions, bestowing us with a plethora of memories...
Rain...the
very word makes us chill. And many damp memories too come along with
rain...Memories and rain are alike as both shower down abruptly.
Idavappathi rain is one that pelts down suddenly from the cloudy sky, first in a
muffled rhythm and then with a rappid spattering tone just to remind
us of many episodes of yore...of the aroma of new books; of the peacock
feathers hidden inside an old notebook; of the walk to school, under a
new umbrella, along the rustic way bordered with the newly sprouted
greenery, splashing raindrops away; and of the sitting in the
classroom in wet dress...How many memories lash down along with
Idavappathi rain!
How
alluring are the pictures that rain has scribbled on the canvas of
mind...Rain droplets scattering and shattering off the foliage; the
chilly touch permeating through the feet while stepping on the rustic
muddy ways; hibiscuses hanging heads as if they are unable to accept any more pearls of raindrops; the slices of the azure sky seen in
the small puddles and streams; the coolness of the air escorted by a heavy shower, wafting through the casements; and the taro leaves that still
keep a pearl of rain droplet even after having all the caresses of
rain...All the pictures rain has drawn are so exquisite!
Idavappathi
rain is always a reminder of school days when it used to rain buckets
incessantly. Often, the teacher would stop classes for a while as rain
pelted patteringly and intractably. And I would often peer out of the classroom to have a blurred, hazy vision of the magotree in the
playground.The classrooms beyond the ground would also look obscure.Rain
always makes an aura of eeriness, by putting a veil over the sights
nearby.Even our voices are plunged in the echo of rain.
And
at night, one could hear the pitter-patter of the spattering rain drops
on the roof along with the symphony rendered by frogs in the
fields...And often, huddled under a blanket, I would try to count the
number of the crying frogs just to get amazed by the thought that the
frogs were thousands of thousands in number! I was very curious as
someone told me that the frogs were really praying to get rain.
Thulavarsha
is a rain of memories too! It is a time when afternoon rain accompanied
by intermittent thunder and lightning damps the earth. The timbres of
rain go on till night. The nights of Thulavarsha are rapturous as we
can sit gazing at the droplets shattering in the dark. In the lightning,
the drenched trees become visible along with the threads of
raindrops.And the unending tunes of rain get into slumber and dreams.In
the morning, the warm dawn welcomes us with shiny eyes with no sign of
the laments of yesterday!
Thus
go the countenances of rain.Sometimes whimpering like a child;at times,
a drizzle as if to lovingly caress the earth; and at other times, a
furious, enraged cloudburst...
It
was when I grew older that I began ruminating over the nostalgic old rain.
Now, the tones of rain seem to have changed a lot.Rain drops pelt
and perish on the terrace roof, with no tunes of yesteryears; the frogs
crying for rain are extinct; gone are the butterflies and dragon flies
that used to deck the yard just after a fresh mizzle; the Mukkutti and Thumpa flowers adorning the wayside are no more; and the Thechi blooms
welcoming us on the bamboo fence has also disappeared; and we have lost
even the rustic muddy ways where the rain used to dance and dance
ravishingly. And yet I am longing for the visage of the old rain;
memories rain cats and dogs!
And still it's raining
After years and years.
With dreams, tears and longings,
It's still raining.
The paths of dream are wet;
And here sprout the boughs
On which a bird of rain
is perching and humming.
is perching and humming.
And it's starting to rain again...
(Translation of Mazhabhavangal, an article written for B.Ed college magazine in 2014. Read the original article in Malayalam: https://mansoornm.blogspot.com/2018/09/blog-post_32.html)
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