Listen To The Rhythm Of The Falling Rain
As I settle down next to the window with my cup of tea, beautiful memories of childhood flood my mind.
It was another rainy day; the phone rang and how happy was I to receive that call from our school only to be told that it was a holiday for us. But that did not stop me from running to the flooded road right in front of our house, jumping and splashing water all over the place while my mother screamed her lungs out.
We were this naughty group of children who would be busy tearing the last pages of our school notebooks to make some paper boats and float them in puddles of water.
Well, we wouldn’t stop here. How we loved splashing muddy water on each other. We almost resembled the zombies or some aliens for that matter, covered with mud from head to toe, yet we seemed so happy for whatever reason.
We walked in the rain, danced in the rain, even sat in the rain and would get up only to collect water by cupping our palms and throwing the same on each other.
On days when it would not rain so much and would be forced to go to school, we would either forget the umbrella at home or leave the raincoat at school.
Must mention here the special monsoon shopping of ours right from waterproof slippers & bags to umbrellas and raincoats. The shop would smell of rubber and plastic, but somehow we loved it. There would be these multi coloured items beautifully hung on the walls – guess to attract kids like us. We would go crazy deciding which one to buy – perhaps would have bought the entire shop, provided that was possible even in our wildest dreams.
All that excitement would continue on our way back home with flooded roads, choked drains, heavy downpour & crowded streets and as expected we would be caught in traffic jam. This was surely exciting for the simple reason that completing our homework would be postponed.
Once I left home for the hostel, I remember escaping into the countryside during the monsoon. The dark clouds, smell of the wet mud, flooded fields, muddy lanes, grey sky, the colourful rainbow, droplets of water glistening at the tips of leaves, a carefree attitude are some of my sweetest memories.
As I write to all of you, I can see the clouds gathering. The sky has changed its colour from blue to grey. There’s a flash of lightning followed by thunder and now I hear the pitter patter of raindrops. But this year it’s no more about the magical monsoons. The fear of Coronavirus has kept us indoors.
The only fond memory which I can bring back from my childhood days is this platter of pakoras or fritters. Pakora also called pakoda, bhajiya, bhajji is a fried snack, very popular in the Indian subcontinent. These can be ordered at the restaurants; also sold by the street vendors. They are best enjoyed with a cup of tea/chai especially during the monsoons.
There is so much of love and warmth in these pakoras – monsoon of sweet memories fill my soul with happiness to say the least. So, until we meet again, enjoy the rain, a hot cup of masala chai with a plateful of pakoras. See you soon and take care. Bye.