The rains...

The rain has always inspired poets and writers. Different people see different things when they watch the rain. Some people just love the soothing sound of falling rain. Others may be depressed at the sight of it. It can be melancholy to be without the sun for days as is the case during the monsoons. Nature whether depressing or uplifting is still impressive during those wonderful displays of light and sound that is the norm during the rainy seasons.
I love the rain. I do not like to be caught in it and am fussy about getting wet. I prefer watching the furious lashing of the wind and the rain from the comfort of my home. Its even better if I have a cup of hot tea cradled in my hands warming me from the inside while contrasting wonderfully with the cold outside. The trees in the garden are pushed every which way and they sway alarmingly in the strong winds. The front lawns get inundated with rain water and only the tips of the blades of grass manage to poke out. The sky is an angry gray and looks like the face of a sullen God taking out its anger on the meek and receptive earth.
The childhood years I spent in the Gulf have sown in me an appreciation of water and greenery. I remember the sparse and infrequent rains that were all that we knew as rain. Even those measly showers however, altered the landscape immensely. It was almost as if the desert knew that rain was too precious to waste and hurried her hidden seeds to fruition in just a few days so that almost overnight the bland wasteland would be covered with tiny flowers and little bits of greenery and even little puddles of water which we would gleefully jump in. It was magic especially for a kid like me who believed strongly in all things magical.
I remember this small tree- I thought it fairly large then but looking back I realize that it was small indeed- on my way to school. The heat was almost unbearable at 12:30 which was when we would be walking back with our heavy load of books. The merciless sun would pound on us ceaselessly. We tried to take longer paths through the shade of the buildings but that was not always possible and we had to take the heat head on everyday of the summer. So it came as a genuine relief to see our tree in the middle of an open ground about halfway to our flat. We would stop there awhile under the shade to take a breather and then continue on. That little tree with its friendly shade was shelter and relatively cool relief for us kids and I think that’s where my love for trees originated. I have a tiny backyard now but I have planted a mango tree, a pomegranate tree and banana plants in lieu of the manicured lawn and stilted shrubs favoured by my neighbours.
I love the smell of newly drenched earth. It evokes an almost instinctive response in me. I savour the fragrance and honestly wish I could bottle it so that I could breathe of it whenever I feel the need to beat stress. Today my children laugh and dance in the puddles when it rains. Even if it means their coughs get worse or they catch colds, I don’t have the heart to give them more than a token scowl when I see them at it – wet and dirty and having a blast. Truly the rains are magical and children always seem to know it better than the adults.