A month of heavy downpours, loud claps of thunders and lightning. Always wild yet serene.
The heavenly smell of damp earth when the rain hits the ground for the first time, first drop of rain falling on my face, subtle sweet scents of jasmine from garden, aroma of hot cup of coffee, the swaying of palm trees, pittar-patter of raindrops on the tiled roof, knee-deep water on roads, the falling of mangoes and coconuts in the backyard… Ah monsoon… magic in that word, there is romance in season and there is life in it.
Romance in the season starts with the beautiful mangoes and the falling of mangoes...
I love this excerpt from a book written by Carrie Young,named "Music in the Fields".
He says "We have all been watching the sky for weeks. The spreading desert and the receding grasses in Mali are causing the rains to arrive later and later every year. My friend looks up once again and says to me with utter acceptance: "We think that it may be Allah's will that we die now."
The next day we watch and wait. Nothing matters at this point except that the rains come.
Everyone is ready to begin plowing the fields, but nothing can be done until it rains. We continue to watch and wait.
The sun is a third of the way across the arc of the sky. The air is parched. The dusty, dry red earth of the fields is quiet.
A faint wind slips by me. I look up yet again toward the hills in the direction of the wind and I see a few clouds beginning to blow over them. There is a huge break in the tension of the village as the clouds move in.
The wind begins to blow strong. Bright fabrics blow out from the bodies of the women, dancing and slapping in the air. We all lean against the winds and head for cover, except for the children, who run frantically toward the giant mango trees. Small mangoes fall from the upper branches and the kids race to collect them in their shirts.
Soon darkness covers us and the rain begins to fall, frantic from the wait. It feels as if the energy of the weeks before has built up in these clouds—as if they had been forced to hold their breath for weeks and now it has all broken loose. The wind blows branches out of the trees and the rain falls with the fury of a hurricane.
After about an hour, the rain calms and continues falling throughout the night.
The village will live"
Achan buys mangoes everyday for home when in season. To put it correctly he always buys fruits which are in season. Amma hurriedly cut some mangoes and brought it in a steel plate..I had told her I would cut it into definite shapes,ready for a photoshoot,but she did it as always.
It was today that I discovered some old, very old design magazines of 80's stashed safely in my almirah. Finding out old things, brings always a joy on my face. The smell of old books, rekindling the old times that I had with them. Amma left them on the papers and left hurriedly. Old magazines and old mosaic also had the romance of the season, didn't they?
Season of falling fruits, my daughter spent the whole afternoon picking up fallen mangoes green and some were ripe inside. Amma taught me how to make green mango juice, it's fun being at home, learning and loving..
Pineapple juice makes it entry on to the green mangoes, different shades of yellow, it's fun to see...We also made some mango smoothie and some jackfruit leaves gave it company...
The wind has started blowing and I can hear mangoes falling, and my daughter is frantically running towards the tree ....don't forget to put on your chappal, I can hear my amma screaming.....it's a child's time, let her play and have fun..
Rainy season are for children...aren't they?
Image courtesy:Lakshmi Arvind
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