Romancing the blues

The southern wind knocked her rainbow-coloured umbrella high up in the air. Rather than chasing it across the field, she leaped on the luxuriant, green grass tossing one hand above her head, letting the umbrella go. Descending from her flight, she broke into a gleeful laughter, bringing out the child inside her, as she saw her only guard against the rainy onslaught fly away in the breeze. After a long, cruel summer finally she felt at ease.

The unruly sun had had its hay day and in the deepest corners of her heart she longed and even prayed for the rains. On harsh humid days she would just close her eyes and get transported into a world much different from reality. After a short spring that even had the cuckoos baffled, the persisting summer tested her patience but held promise of a long, heavy monsoon.

The prospect of greeting rain had her dancing like a heavenly nymph. She clutched the pleats of her blue sari and raised it above her ankles so as not to make the ends of her dress wet and hop-scotched on the moistened grass like a sparrow on a village courtyard. Rain always brought her glad tidings of the good times ahead.

Monsoon blues has always been a fashion statement, nothing more. The gloom associated with the season never caught up with her; she could pass the endless days of Bangladeshi monsoon in a cheerful gear.

She never complained of the drear nor did she appreciate the perils of monsoon, but in her heart it was a time to rejoice and laugh away the blues. She spread her arms, wrists dipped; head tilted, lightly placed on her left shoulder — like a scarecrow on a wheat field, not to scare away the imminent shower but to invite. And then the drizzle began — the first showers of the season!

She turned her head and looked up at the sky. As the water droplets fell on her eyelids and her lips, she tasted monsoon and instantly felt pure. The dipped wrists now faced the skies and her glare fixed at the heavens and all the while the drizzle turned into a downpour.

Wet from the mizzle, she sits on the green grass. The fragrance of water soaking the ground beckoned her to lie down on the wet earth. She could touch the vivacity of nature at the proximity of the green grass, and feel the earth come alive with a distinct smell, so familiar with the scene.

Just when she had immersed in the fragrances, the rain intensified. She lay softly on the ground and while she was cleansed, rain drops kept falling on her head.