The August Rain

The August rain seems to have a magical effect on Delhites. Like a magic potion, that sends them into a trance. After months of sweltering days with little or no rain, the thunder roared, and I heard the shriek of the peacocks. I see them prancing from one roof to the other, in search of an ideal spot to perform their rain dance. The drops became louder, clouds of dust stopped swirling in the air and the rainbow tails of the peacocks began to unfurl, twirl, and entertain peahens who gazed at their majestic performance.

Not long after, I hear children screaming, like a cry sent to the heavens thanking God for the rain. Their smile spread across their brown cheeks, and their pearly white teeth displayed their joy even more. Some stood below a tin roof where the rainwater formed a thin fountain. Free shower, no bills for this.

My neighbour, a coy person, who hardly played any song during hot summers, started playing ‘Barso re megha’, meaning “Rain please come”. The rain seems to uplift his mood, and the song seems to express what he felt.

Mynas and crows, who were generally distant and cautious, came close and were indifferent to my presence now. Three mynas swooped in and sat at the edge of my balcony door, chirping and shaking their soaked feathers. Crows were even bolder. They looked like police officers who had come to inspect my house.

My fish in the pond moved around more swiftly as the raindrops rippled the surface of the water.

The breeze is cool and the summer heat is almost forgotten. The raindrops on my skin reminded me of good things. Like the time when I was a little kid, I ran in the rice fields and the mud swallowed my rubber slippers. The thunder roared and the rain had drenched me completely. I was afraid of the thunder back then, but now, it calls me back home.