Here’s to the Rhythm of the Rain…

Ilove standing in my verandah and watching the rain, raining in the sea, thick sheets of water. Into the Arabian Sea which spreads majestically in front of my home, sweeping into the horizon. It’s a phenomenal sight, the white foamy surf lashing at the shore, the palm trees swaying madly in the stormy winds, dancing to the rhythm of the falling rain. I have the strongest urge to run down and do the same. Dancing in the rain cleanses your soul.

But I stand there mesmerised by the tableau in front and replay a childhood memory. Ishratbhai, my eldest brother, piling a set of six 45s on the turntable of the record changer and gently clicking the start lever. The record at the bottom falls, the tone arm of the record player goes with perfect precision and touches down on the vinyl record and we hear a crashing crescendo, a mix of thunder and rain. It’s the rhythm of the rain. “Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain/Telling me just what a fool I’ve been/I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain/And let me be alone again…”

A record we would listen to endlessly during the monsoons. Even dance to; the foxtrot.

Yes, I am rain mad. Crazy about this season. I am at my best in these months. I enjoy the rain, I savour every moment of it. Enjoy every experience. From watching the rain, to walking in the rain, being drenched and cold, yet feeling warm within. Driving in the rain, cruising past the waterfalls of Mahabaleshwar is another  high. Also, like Gene Kelly, I go kicking puddles in the rain in Panchgani, where I make it a point to be every June, for the first showers to inhale the best fragrance there is and watch the dust being washed off the leaves. Making little rivulets in the muddy paths. And by the way,  If you are not aware of Gene Kelly’s Singing in the Rain, immediately go to YouTube and seek the video! It is so uplifting. I thank Behram for introducing Gene and Fred Astaire into my life.

So what’s it about the rain? To begin with, it’s the scent…you agree? That blissful smell of earth hanging in the air, especially if you are somewhere surrounded by trees. Can drive one mad. Its called petrichor. The scent that can calm you and rejuvenate you like no other perfume. Plant oils mixed with moisture droplets and earthiness, left free into the air, a gift from God. Close your eyes, breathe in… deeply, breathe out fully…slowly open your eyes. It’s peace of a different kind.

Next time you are caught out in the rain, don’t run. Don’t try to escape it with your head down. Instead, lift your face upwards, let it rain on your face. Then look around slowly, it will be an entirely different perspective. If you are mindful, you will see the world just looks different when it rains. Everything seems rejuvenated, energised, clean and fresh and glorious. Rain nourishes not just the earth but also your body, mind and soul. We actually do take it for granted. Think of those living in places where it never rains. Or in those where it drizzles every day, but never rains. Ah, the great Indian monsoon, we are truly so fortunate.

As for moi, I enjoy rain in every form. On days when it is overcast and totally dark, people say it’s gloomy and depressing. I don’t. I call it happiness. I feel cheerful. I bunk office. I make myself hot chocolate, from scratch, and settle down to listen to music. Even as I sing along with the sad refrains from my old-time favourite, Carpenters, I feel happy. Rainy days and Mondays never get me down!

Being outdoors during the rains has always appealed to me. I have spent my youth trekking in the Sahyadri hills, climbing peaks like Torna and Harishchandragad and many others. Spending a cold, wet night at the temple on the top and then climbing down the next morning. Don’t know how but we did it. Wet and cold to the bone, crossing furious rivers, just clutching on to the thick rope, that some strong swimmer had first taken across and tied to a tree! The mountaineering group at St. Xavier’s was quite notorious.

And I have some other delightful but crazy memories; like the time a bunch of Iranian boys, students, who followed us, a bunch of St. Xavier’s girls, all the way from Panchgani to Mahabaleshwar in the hope of being ‘just friends’. It was raining heavily when seven of us spilled out of the big local taxi called jhonga, at the Venna  Lake, to eat some roasted corn. There was not a soul around, it was fun and then suddenly from another jhonga, four of these boys emerged, surprising us… And what do they do? They coolly walk down the boat club and disengage two of the row boats which were all safely anchored for the monsoons and beckon to us to join them! I don’t even want to tell you what followed, but the enticement was too strong and we were reckless (in hindsight). What a time we had. None of us have ever forgotten it.

And yes, we did become friends and stay friends.