Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Monsoon Memoirs

I laugh with raindrops,
Drunk with the fun of them…
And hold in my two hands
One hundred and one of them…

I read those four lines somewhere once – and my immediate thought was how appropriately it expressed the joy one feels when getting wet in the rain, on any given day, during the monsoon season.

If someone denies the innate earning to feel the touch of rain drops drum an addictive beat down on one’s person, I’d say that he or she were lying through their teeth. No matter the age, this desire will never, ever fade – it’s part of our childhood, our culture – in short, it’s in our blood.

Monsoon season is weaved with memories that repeat themselves every year like an ongoing love affair. The green garb of Mother Nature somehow seems more lush, the sky is always overcast as if the heavens above will open up any minute and a curtain of rain will come down, washing away all the stains and coaxing forth all things pure and cleansed. It’s as if the earth is re-born each time. There is the rather tense, caught-in-a-moment, oppressive mood right before it starts to rain and once it stops, a blissful feeling of peace permeates the air along with the unforgettable smell of the damp earth. And of course we get the refreshing cool, cool breeze – I even have a friend who opened an email account ‘xirxire’, a connotation of the phrase jhirjhire batash, because she loves it so much!

Here in the city, we see tokais jumping with unconcealed joy in the rain. We see the romantic picture of a couple huddling under an umbrella. We see families and friends enjoying a hot cup of tea with daal puri or jhaal muri or a lunch of dola-khichuri with bhuna-goshto and aachar. We see little kids playing hari-patil or making paper boats to float down a make-shift rain stream or puddle, dragging their elders into the fun, who are only too happy to join in. And can one forget cruising by inside a car and drawing childish nonsense on the fogged up windows? I STILL do that.

Farmers in the rural areas look up to the sky and shed tears of relief and joy in cadence with Mother Nature shedding the first onslaught of monsoon rains…filling rivers, canals and streams to the brim that help water parched lands and yield bumper harvests.

Monsoon memoirs thus entail romance, happiness, hope, good fortune and new beginnings. So it’s time to get drenched in all that is monsoon – time to get drunk with the fun of them.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Nice post! Ami ghorer chal e bristi porar shobdo r pukure bang er dakadaki khub miss kori... r shokal bela khichuri-achar to achei :(

Tahmid Munaz said...

my GOD!
amar sritir khatay
purano diner patay, nara die gela..
bhulei gesilam din gular kotha..
shohorer ei besto shomoye..
manush koto kisui bhule jaye.. amio temoni onek kisu feel kora bhule jai..
but thanks.. tomar post pore khub bhalo laglo..

Bristir dine.. thanda weather e gorom dola-khichuri with bhuna-goshtor test, gorom cha with few other nasta.. or diner bela birsti dekhte dekhte kathar niche klanto shirire ghumay pora..
kaaz na thakle sharadin bristi te vija..

joss!joss post!
Losts of Flying kisses!

Tahmid Munaz said...

University'r ek diner kotha mone pore gelo.. we had an exam that day.. shobay exam die ber holam.. whole groupe tokhon near about 15/16 jon chele and 1 jon meye. shobay exam die ber hoye chilla palla kortesilam.. je ke ki disi and kar ki bhul hoyechilo.. etc etc.. and eto mushul dhare bristi hocchilo je.. shobay ordhek vije gesilam.. DDC building er side e darano.. and we were enjoying the heavy raining!

Then mone porlo amader ek friend Aasife er birthday shedin.. (you may seen him in my Orkut friend's list)
shathe shathe shobay plan shuru korlam how to enjoy the whole day upto evening..
bristi ektu kome gelo.. so we planned to have a nouka ride on the Gulshan-Mohakhali joint lake.. okhane noukate kore onek khon ghure.. gaan geye.. pore.. shob back to have the lunch..

tokhon we are may be in 1st year/2nd year just. Igloo ICE cream er cake ta kine nie then other lunch er bebostha kore we went to Brac canteen. As our canteen was so poor at that time. Tokhon Brac er canteen was even open for all. So we had our lunch and few funtime there.. porer baki ghotona mone nai..

But sharadin shobay bristite bhijesilam eta clear mone ase..
Even pant er niche + jutar vitoreo shob kisui shedin vija sob sob kortesilo.. hahahaha..Boot er niche vija moja.. aro koto ki.. hahaha.. funny days..

Thanks again.

savannaview said...

nice post api:)
brishti amaro khub pochhondo..amito brishti holei bhijte chhade chole jai:D