RAINS

 Occasional Jottings

RAINS

Dr. C. V. Ananda Bose

"Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet." - Bob Marley

Mid-June there was a prediction reported in the media: "If the rain continues due to the cyclonic circulations, monsoon currents should reach south Bengal within three days," Regional Meteorological Centre.

This was a welcome announcement and people were hoping that monsoon arrived soon.  And as predicted monsoon did reach south Bengal bringing relief from the scorching heat and humidity of the long Summer. 

While the usual date for the arrival of the monsoon in south Bengal and Kolkata is June 10, the monsoon currents had remained weak and static during early June. 

* * *

Rains in Mannanam, my native village, were a treat to experience.  The village would be bathed in a gray mist as the rain poured down.  

The sound of raindrops hitting the earth, the mesmerising aroma of wet earth, the swaying of plants in tandem with the monsoon breeze, the invigorating greenery of the forests beyond the village and the refreshing atmosphere are fresh in my mind.   Our farmers would look forward to the monsoon knowing it would rejuvenate their crops and replenish their water sources.

During the monsoon, our village took on a serene ambiance. 

And if it rained really hard, it was a ‘rainy day holiday’ at school.  

We were allowed to play indoors on those days, albeit after doing a revision of our lessons.  But outdoors looked enticing and we would manage to surreptitiously smuggled ourselves out into the vast rain-drenched openness.   Years later, I did realise that we were actually ‘allowed’ to go out into the rains, connect with nature, be close to the land, be at one with environment.  Everything formed part of our growing up.

We would twirl and play in the rain, splash in the rainwater, drench ourselves, stomp on puddles and even made soft mudballs and threw at each other.  In those days, when I was yet to cross half a decade of my life, I would look up skyward into the falling rain and wonder from where did all that water come from; how did so much water stay in the sky; what would happen if all the water falls off from the sky?

A bath in the pond followed and we would troop indoors, dry ourselves up and put on that innocent look as if nothing has happened. 

The scent of steaming rice and vegetables from the kitchen would make our stomach grumble and our grandmother would treat us to a hearty meal. 

Those were the days when we basked in the simple joys of life and were awestruck by the beauty and wonders of nature. 

The elders thanked the Rain God with gratitude for infusing new life to the crops and generating a sense of hope and renewal.  They expected a bountiful harvest.  We expected more ‘rainy day holidays’. 

In monsoon, the trees surrounding Mannanam came alive and created a symphony of sounds, as if the entire ecosystem, the flora and fauna were, like us, also dancing in the rain.   The rain washed away the dust from the leaves and branches and the trees looked greener and fresh as if on a canvas of a painter who just finished a masterpiece. 

The symphony of forest life reached us in our village after the rains and continued throughout the day and night. Birds sang sweet melodies, and insects buzzed with renewed energy, as the forest pulsated with a new life.  

In those days we did not have to worry about tongue twisters and awkward phrases such as deforestation, ecological disasters, environmental degradation.  Those were unknown terms.  We learnt about harmony and symphony of man and environment.  

‘God’s Own Country’ – Kerala – as we all know, is endowed with two monsoon seasons.  The southwest monsoon lords over the State from June to September, while the northeast monsoon holds sway over the months of October to December.  

Kerala is the first state in India to receive monsoon rains – specifically the southwest monsoon. The Arabian Sea branch of the monsoon hits the Western Ghats of Kerala, bringing heavy rainfall to the region. This typically occurs in June and marks the beginning of the pan-India monsoon season.  After a scorching Summer, the parched land across the country eagerly awaits the monsoon to enter the Kerala coast.  

Kerala cradles several important festivals that celebrate human-environment connect.  It was also compulsory for the kids in our household to actively participate in every festival that was celebrated in our village.   Monsoon and festivals go together in Kerala and it was sheer joy for the children.  It would have been quite a spectacle seeing us clad in the traditional attire of shirt, dhoti and chappals often made of rubber.  What the grown-ups would be dismayed about having the chappals stick into the muddy roads was a source of fun for us.  Even as my elder brother clutched on to my hand maneuvering me around the puddles, I would be cunningly wait for a chance to splash in those at the slightest opportunity.  My most favourite technique for a perfect splash was to calculate the distance between dry ground and the middle of the tempting puddle.  Once done, I would stand in attention, bow a little and go for it, landing right in the middle of the puddle and the success of this stunt was measured by the impact of the jump and the water displacement. The farther and higher the water was displaced the more successful was the little juvenile antic. 

Our gang of four, all below the age of six, gained notoriety for carrying mud from rain drenched roads and fields onto our clothes, our homes, our beds and our classrooms.  However, as far as school went, most of my compatriots enjoyed the rain, the mud, the puddles, the wet grass and hence mud stains were common and no one lifted an eyebrow or batted an eyelid.  

Monsoon, passion, mud and mud-stains were, thus, part and parcel of our simple lives; the poetry of our everyday life.  The typical Keralite attire of dhoti with chappals promised to stain the otherwise milk-white fabric.  The Headmaster of our school, the teachers, the watchmen, the students all carried the stains of the monsoon mud on our dhotis, half-pants, on our bodies, right up to the head, on our school bags and our books.  

* * *

तालीषु तारं विटपेषु मन्द्रं शिलासु रूक्षं सलिलेषु चण्डम्।

संगीतवीणा इव ताड्यमानास्तालानुसारेण पतन्ति धाराः॥

5.52 Mṛcchakaṭika of Śudraka

[A high-pitched plink upon the tāla leaves, a murmuring patter upon the branches, a harsh clatter upon the rocks and a violent crash upon water – the rain falls, keeping the beat, like vīṇās in a concert.]

Rains were still spectacular as we moved into our college years. We learnt of the metaphors that rain inspire in literature and poetry stimulating various emotions, themes, and ideas. 

Charlie Chaplin had famously said: “I like to walk in rain, so that nobody can see my tears.”  

We found out that rains were not merely a source of joy and merrymaking; it also symbolizes sadness, grief and dampness on one plane, while also depicting cleansing or purification of the body and the soul.  For the youth, rain symbolized new beginnings and hope.

In those days, umbrellas were huge, made of wooden handle, cumbersome and outright grotesque and rustic by today’s standards.  We referred to them as the ‘traditional umbrellas or grandfather’s umbrellas’ and though we didn’t have the alternative we despised those classic design ones and made our best to conceal those, especially when we saw girls coming.  When we were on our own, we would sling it from our shoulders.

Some of us devised innovative plans to make the most of these classic design umbrellas also.  When the rain stopped, we would either hide the umbrellas in a safe place or if ‘caught’ by girls with one would pretend this umbrella to be ‘just-an-afterthought’, ‘not-necessary-just-carrying’, ‘not-mine-just-helping-out-my-friend’ or would start spinning it stylishly as our film heroes did in the cinemas and all the time watching the reaction of the girls from the corner of the eye.  The last option generated a sense of hope of being recognised as a machoman.

For our elders and professors, et al, these traditional durable umbrellas served a further purpose.  It would be used as an improvised and handy tool to hit an errant boy with or even to use as a missile on the one darting away. 

As time went by, we heard that in the cities, modern umbrellas were being used.  Not to be lagging behind in making a style statement, we tried our best to procure such compact umbrellas that were easy to carry and looked sleek.  And some of us succeeded in doing so and commanded an elevated status. 

Times, they are a’changin – it does always.

And then came the advent of raincoat.  I implored with my elder brother to recommend to my parents for a raincoat for me.   My elder brother was not amused and I could not convince him why I needed that though the family had already spent some money procuring a smaller compact umbrella in place of the traditional one.  Every penny is to be spent carefully was what my elder brother meant. 

And how could I explain to him that the boys wearing raincoats attracted immediate attention and interest?

I was not allocated any raincoat.  I had to alternate between the traditional cumbersome umbrella and the smaller compact one.

My grandmother also taught me the use of every part of the umbrella.  She said the umbrella was part and parcel of our lives and we must be able to utilise it and recycle its part when it becomes obsolete.   She would also jestingly say that when I held up the traditional wooden- handled ‘grandfather’ umbrella, I looked like a ‘little Chhatrapati’.  I would make my displeasure known to her.  Firstly, I can’t carry that heavy thing and then my comrades were stealing a march over me with the sleeker version and raincoats, and she was encouraging me to stick with the traditional cumbersome one!

What my grandmother also taught me stayed with me all along.  She had said that the umbrella carries great symbolism.  It signifies protection, ensuring safety, bringing together people, assimilation.  Wont we share our umbrella with two or three friends on a rainy day?  She would drive the point home. 

Our middle-aged History teacher, a bachelor, was an amateur and indeed a good painter, we discovered as we started visiting his home occasionally for guidance on multiple subjects.   We wondered how he found time to pursue his hobby while teaching and guiding so many students.  

Sensing our curiosity in his paintings and drawings, one rainy day he told us.

“You see, the beauty and drama of monsoon has been a timeless source of inspiration for creativity since ancient times.   Painters captured not only the rains per se, but also its symbolism; while philosophers infused delicate essence into the natural phenomenon.  Creative artists must also essentially be philosophers and when the amalgam is perfect, masterpieces take shape.”

Professor Swami would narrate famous paintings depicting rains and explain to us the thought that went into creating the masterpieces. 

Gustave Caillebotte’s ‘Paris Street; Rainy Day’, the massive 1877 oil painting capturing people strolling through a Paris street on a rainy day, with a striking mirror-like effect on the wet pavement.

Van Gogh’s 1889 oil-on-canvas masterpiece simply marked ‘Rain’ generated awe for its fantastic details and spirit.  The painting shows a rainy scene outside his hospital window.

Renoir’s 1880s ‘The Umbrella’ that captured busy street scene in Paris and its essence, with people carrying umbrellas and splashing through puddles.

Childe Hassam’s ‘Rainy Day, Boston’, a beautiful depiction of a mother and daughter walking through the streets of Boston on a rainy day, with horse carts and shining walkways.

‘Jockeys in the Rain’ by Edgar Degas.  I found this captivating.   The painting was of five jockeys riding their horses through a field during heavy rain.  It reminded me of the wet fields in my village and young boys perching themselves on bullocks and playfully riding the beasts when they were not ploughing. 

Professor Swami would also describe famous monsoon paintings by renowned Indian artists.  

The traditional painting of ‘Radha and Krishna in the Rain’ showcasing the divine couple sheltering from the rain, symbolizing love and romance.

The miniature painting of a prince strolling in the rain, titled ‘Prince Amar Walking in the Rain’.

Professor Swami showed us a replica of a Warli painting displaying a vibrant depiction of tribal life during the monsoon season.  He seemed to have a deep interest in the Warli paintings and explained to us that this was a traditional tribal art form from Maharashtra known for its distinctive style using basic geometric shapes like circles, triangles, and squares to depict scenes of daily life, nature, and cultural events.

Then came the ‘Mewar Monsoon’ series of paintings that highlighted the beauty of the monsoon season in Mewar, with vibrant flowers and lush greenery.

We were enthralled by Professor Swami’s immense knowledge and keen interest in paintings.  

Professor Swami would give a short lecture on the importance of being creative.  Creativity, he would say, was the ability to generate new and original ideas, solutions, or products through an imaginative and innovative process. It involves thinking outside the box, making connections between seemingly unrelated concepts, and finding novel solutions to problems.   For any artist creativity was crucial. Creativity promotes imagination, innovation and was essential in various aspects of life and not confined to art and culture.  

Professor Swami would spend time with us discussing the daily news items that had a bearing on the masses in general.  He would lament that the thinkers and opinion makers should be more creative in their approach to solving problems.  There could always a simple solution to a problem seemingly complex; you just need to find that solution and look for it in the correct perspective.  Depending on where you look, you will certainly find the solution. 

I must confess, though, that I could not find a simple solution to my comrades – especially those wearing raincoats – stealing the march over me when it came to creating impressions, you know!  

I took solace in reading. 

* * *

जातं वंशे भुवनविदिते पुष्करावर्तकानं जानामि त्वां प्रकृतिपुरुषं कामरूपं मघोनः /

तेनार्थित्वं त्वयि विधिवशाद् दूरबन्धुर्गतोहं याञ्चा मोघा वरमधिगुणे नाधमे लब्धकामा //१-६//]

“O mighty cloud capable of carrying immense quantities of water,  O noble relative of  Pushkara, kAmarUpa, maghOnaha prakrti puruSHam,  please take a message from me to my wife!  She lives in my house in Alaka, the kingdom of the Lord of Wealth, Kubera.”          

- Mahakavi Kalidasa

 

“Look at Ananda.  He has cultivated this good habit of reading books.”  Shekharattan, addressing the other members of our mess group, pointed approvingly at me, as he took his elevated seat at our mess adda.  Rajib, our mess attendant-cum-cook-cum-Man Friday, took the large umbrella from his hands and stood it just outside the door.  Water was streaming down the umbrella’s canopy making puddles. It was raining torrentially.  It was the monsoon season.

Rajib brought in steaming hot pot of tea and kulhads; Shekharattan forbade the use of plastic cups for tea and all types of plastic carry bags and had also imposed a general embargo on the use of plastic items in our mess as far as practicable. 

I blushed and put on a sheepish grin. The history behind my taking to books must remain a secret. 

“And what are you reading, Ananda?”  Shekharattan, pointing his index finger at the book lying on my bed, asked.

“Meghadootam, in English.”  I said. 

Shekharattan raised his eyebrows, and looking at me, asked for the book.   I obliged.

“Yes.  Meghadootam, by Mahakavi Kalidasa, one of the greatest Sanskrit poets.”  Shekharattan said flipping through the pages lovingly and continued, “Meghadūta Kavya or Cloud Messenger, is a renowned Sanskrit poem.  This this lyrical work is considered one of Kalidasa’s finest creations and a cornerstone of Sanskrit literature.  The vivid descriptions, the profound exploration of love, separation and the beauty of nature, all expressed through Kalidasa's masterful use of language and imagery makes it one of the greatest poems of all times. It's a lyrical masterpiece that continues to resonate with readers for its emotional depth and vivid descriptions.  Through the poem the Mahakavi masterfully portrayed nature, particularly the cloud, not just as a backdrop but as an active participant in the narrative.  The lyrical quality of the creation is extraordinary.  Meghaduta has had a significant influence on Indian literature, inspiring countless poets and writers down the ages to explore this genre of “messenger poem”, themes of love, separation, and the beauty of nature.  The genius of the Mahakavi lies not only in the lyrical supremacy but also his imaginative skills that bond with readers across time and place. 

The Meghadūta has been widely studied, translated, and admired for centuries, influencing literature and art across the globe. Its timeless themes and beautiful language continue to captivate readers and scholars alike. 

The great scholar of Sanskrit literature, Arthur Berriedale Keith wrote of this poem: "It is difficult to praise too highly either the brilliance of the description of the cloud’s progress or the pathos of the picture of the wife sorrowful and alone. Indian criticism has ranked it highest among Kalidasa’s poems for brevity of expression, richness of content, and power to elicit sentiment, and the praise is not undeserved." 

Shekharattan stopped and extended a long, thin and wiry arm towards the bowl of hot pakodas while signalling Rajib for a refill of the kulhad.  

We marvelled at the depth of his knowledge. 

“Read.”  Shekharattan concluded addressing the motley group of amazed and diligent onlookers. 

From the SBI Branch at Shyambazar, our mess was about 30 minutes on foot if we took the shortcut through the narrow alleys and bylanes.   During the monsoon, the drains would be clogged and the lanes would be submerged making it impossible to tread through the murky water;  sometimes the stagnate water would also contain material from the submerged and overflows manholes.  People around that manhole would stick a pole into it as a symbol of caution for the pedestrians unaware of the danger lurking beneath the filthy water. 

Hand-pulled rickshaws came to pedestrians’ rescue during the monsoon.  Even those who would scoff at the thought of boarding a rickshaw in other times, and opt for sleeker means of travel, would find themselves perched on these rickshaws as the rickshawala took them through the waterlogged roads.  It was no doubt risky for the rickshawala; one false step into a pothole could even mean twisting of the leg or ankle and that would be disaster for him for a few days since his income would be directly commensurate with the number of hours he pulled the rickshaw, day in and day out. 

Phoni da was of gigantic proportions.  As we trooped out of our SBI branch and waded through the waterlogged road to the other side and reached the rickshaw stand, the rickshawalla would look through him, as if he was invisible and would call other prospective passengers, bypassing him. 

Not Osman.  His dream chariot was for me and Phoni da.

Either sensing Phoni da’s discomfiture or due to his inherent zeal to be different from others, Osman, if he was not mobile helping others, and was at the stand, would signal to Phoni da and me to his rickshaw and with the pat on the ‘cushion’ signal us to board it, as if telling – ‘don’t worry. You are in safe hands.’

And it was a marvel seeing Osman make his way through the rain and inundated lanes.  Surefooted as he was, he didn’t miss a step; neither did he allow the rickshaw wheel descend in a chuckhole.  His powerful muscular body would guide his chariot as if it was floating on the water. 

We listened intently, during the monsoons, when Shanta di, a graduate from the Rabindra Bharati University, would explain to us how Kaviguru Rabindra Nath Tagore frequently used the monsoon as a rich source of imagery and symbolism in his works, celebrating its beauty, power, and impact on the human psyche.  Monsoon was not just a season for him, but a powerful force of nature that evokes a range of emotions and is deeply intertwined with life, nature, and spirituality.  The dramatic weather patterns of the monsoon,  the rain, the rainbow and the vibrant sunsets find expression in Gurudev’s writings.  Tagore equated monsoon with themes of longing, joy, fear, and spiritual awakening, showing how the season can mirror and influence human emotions.   Like Kalidasa, Gurudv used vivid descriptions of rain, clouds, wind, and the natural world to create a powerful sensory experience for the reader.  Tagore's "Rainy Day" poem portrays the monsoon's dramatic effects on the environment and the human experience, highlighting the sounds, sights, and even the fear associated with the storm. 

Gurudev also explored the monsoon's potential for both destruction and rejuvenation, showcasing its complex and multifaceted nature. 

* * *

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society where none intrudes,

By the deep Sea, and music in its roar;

I love not Man the less, but Nature more.

Lord Byron

I re-read the prediction of the Meterological Centre: "If the rain continues due to the cyclonic circulations, monsoon currents should reach south Bengal within three days."  

This was a welcome announcement and people were hoping that monsoon arrived soon.  

I wanted to be cautious – not for myself – but for my brothers and sisters across West Bengal, for the monsoons come not only as harbingers of hope but could also show their destructive side.   

Then there could be storms.

The frequency of cyclones hitting the region has increased, with meteorologists linking it to global warming's effect on sea-surface temperatures. Both the State Government and local authorities have taken measures to prepare for the cyclones.  A mechanism of evacuating people to safer zones, setting up cyclone shelters, and deploying disaster response teams are all managed swiftly. 

Reportedly, the frequency of cyclones hitting the region during this period has been higher than ever in recorded meteorological history. The reasons, it is believed, are multifarious, including a rise in sea-surface temperature due to global warming.  

As many as five cyclones have hit the Bengal-Bangladesh and Bengal-Odisha coasts in the last four years since Super Cyclone Amphan wreaked havoc on south Bengal and roared through Kolkata on May 20, 2020 with wind speeds of 260 km/h.  It flattened large parts of the State’s coastal belt. 

Then came Cyclone Yaas in May 2021.  Though it bypassed Kolkata, the cyclone had almost equal intensity to Amphan and affected the Bengal-Bangladesh and Bengal-Odisha coasts.

Cyclone Sitrang rose in October 2022 and made landfall in Odisha-Bengal coast.

Cyclone Remal and Cyclone Dana both arrived in 2024 in May and October, respectively.  Dana was predicted to be marauding with wind speeds reaching 100-120 km/h. 

The frequency at which the cyclones have been forming over Bay of Bengal is unusual, experts believe. 

We must prepare ourselves for tackling the effects of Global Warming and several of its terrible offshoots.  The climate change has numerous effects on the environment, human health, and the economy.  Some of the most significant effects include rising sea levels, extreme weather events, loss of biodiversity, negative impact on human health, water scarcity, and so on.  The consequences of global warming are far-reaching and can have devastating impacts on ecosystems, human health, and the economy. 

West Bengal is endowed with a stunning variety of landscapes from Hills in the north to mangroves in the south, forests, and extraordinarily divergent and distinct landmasses in between.   

There have been instances of landslides in the Hills, but prompt action by the authorities ensured that the roads were cleared.  Unbridled and indiscriminate urbanisation in the Hills would need to be checked. Landslides can happen due to natural causes or by a combination of geological, meteorological, and human factors.  While in case of natural causes our options may be limited to being alert and keeping a proper relief and rescue mechanism ready, it is the human factors that we need to strongly address, and the sooner we do, the better. Deforestation, construction on unstable slopes, removing vegetation and altering land use can increase soil instability and landslide risk.

When we come downwards from the Hills, we are faced with situation of floods caused by excessive rainfall, waterlogged soil causing root rot and reduce plant growth, soil erosion leading to loss of topsoil and nutrients and so on.  Excessive moisture can create an environment conducive to disease and pest development, leading to plant damage.

Monsoon can inspire creativity of different hues; it can also cause pain and misery.  It is for us to strike a balance.  Afterall, we have not inherited the Planet Earth; we are mere custodians of it and it actually belongs to the future generations.  We have to keep the Earth safe for our future generations so that their dreams can take wings and reach out. 

* * *