Every….Single….Time. Undeniably. Irrevocably. There’s no avoiding it. Each and every time the skies above me darken as the rumbling clouds gather before opening their arms wide open to set forth the cool, cool monsoon breeze, I wake up.
What I mean to say is that it may be in the wee hours of the early morning, say around 4 a.m., or during a lazy, weekend afternoon, when I’m totally lost in blissful slumber, that without a doubt, an imminent storm will wake me up. There simply has to be an invisible connection between the onslaught of rain and my biological clock. Mind you, I’m no light sleeper. Nothing short of a blaring alarm clock (or my ma banging on the door non-stop) will wake me up. So the only conclusion left to make is that I have an undeniable love affair with monsoon in all its glory.
It all starts with the calm before the storm. The so-called calmness is just a façade. You can actually sense the throbbing pulse of suppressed excitement of the imminent downpour to follow. I can feel it beating in my pulse and it literally makes me pace the floor of my bedroom and veranda… waiting… waiting… when suddenly, out of the blue, I’ll spy some errant leaves swirling in a burst of air and just scant seconds later that sensuous, erotic touch of the wind that’s so much a part of a storm will start ebbing and flowing. Go on. Take a deep, deep breath. Now wouldn’t you say that that has got to be the one of the richest legacies that Mother Nature has given us?
One reason I think I love the rain so much is because of all the wonderful memories that are tied to the monsoon season. I still recall how my ma would help me and my elder brother, Sakib, tear up used pages from our revision copies and make paper boats, big and small, to set adrift on the puddles and streams of rain water that would collect in the cervixes and hollows on the ground. Then there’s getting wet in the rain while feeling your toes sink in the warm, wet earth below and the grass tickling your feet. The best part about this is that you have all your clothes on which somehow heighten the enjoyment of it all. Don’t ask my why for I have no clue.
And how can we forget all the ritualistic food??! Piping hot tea or coffee with crispy muri bhaja with zesty shorishar tel and onions. Or if it’s lunch time then bhuna khichuri with spicy beef or fried fish. And since it is the monsoon season, it means that the dining table will include your homemade, yummy mango chutneys. The ones made by your nani or dadi always taste the best. Oh! Speaking of mangoes, they’re a constant element when it comes to dessert as well! And lichies, which we skin and refrigerate in a box so that they taste like frozen sorbets, makes their perfect dessert-dating partner.
See? It has to be the memories.
Just three days back, right on cue at 6 a.m., I woke up. I was a little disoriented at first and couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly that had broken my sleep. Then I heard it. The wailing sound of the wind rushing through the leaves of the trees. I got up in a flash, all the sleep gone from my eyes and ran towards my window to throw back the drapes and the shutters. And smiled. Because I knew that in just a little while, I’d be on my way to making some more memories. Memories of monsoon magic.
Showing posts with label seasons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seasons. Show all posts
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Halcyon Deshi Summer Days
Grishsho…I love grishsho! I love the haze, the heat, the humidity, the long days and the evenings spent half-listening to favorite music tracks while catching up on some fun reading. I don't know why I don't seem to have as much free time in the winter – my schedule stays the same – maybe it's just that time seems to move more slowly in the heat, and that I change my priorities from ‘clean my room’ to ‘don a ratty, cotton tee and gypsy skirt that’s seen better days; fix some refreshing, chilled jug of lebu’r shorbot or if I’m feeling lazy, Tang; and just chill in front of the TV’.
Grishsho or summer in this city of ours stands for so many, myriad of snap-shot memories or events. There’s inhaling the fragrances and appreciating the blazing hues of the lush flowers in perfect bloom – the regal rojonigondhas, the sunny shonalu and kodomphuls, the fiery red krishnochuras and rongons (the latter which I used to pick as a child to suck out the honey nectar inside), and the sweet-smelling beli, bokul, jui and gondhorajs. There’s eating something really cold on a really hot day, which tends to send an ache right through your jaws and head, but feels oh so great. There’s standing for hours-on-end under the invigorating beat of a cool, cool shower, feeling the rivulets of water roll down your scalp and skin, soothing your over-heated body. There’s the sudden increase in TV commercials and press ads for ice creams, icy soft drinks, air conditioners, and prickly heat powders.
There’s the onset of thunderstorms and rains from Pahela Baishakah onwards, falling in synchronized plunges into the lakes and ponds, and which bring with them one of the bestest grishsho smells ever – bhija maatir shoda gondho. Too bad you can’t bottle it up and market it, haha. And you hear the timeless composition of Mother Nature – the roll of thunder, the rimjhim and tapurtupur of brishti, the cricketycrick of crickets, the croaks of frogs – pure music to the ears.
There’re the fresh, fresh summer fruits and veggies. I love the variety and all the beautiful colors! I remember as a kid eagerly awaiting my father’s return from the kaacha bajar with sopping bags teeming with luscious aams, juicy lichus and pungent kathaals. Brings back some delightful memories of being a carefree kid on a sultry summer afternoon, gulping down all the yummy treats till it felt my tummy was gonna burst. I still over-indulge these days! Guess some things never change, thank god!
Then there are a few items on the ‘I-can-definitely-do-without-these-during-grishsho’ list. There’s the dratted load shedding which goes with the territory of summers in Dhaka city, making the heat more unbearable. There’s the chance of getting food poisoning after having some questionable looking glass of juice from a street-side vendor. There’s bugs, particularly mosquitoes and ants, which suddenly seen to come alive in the armies! There’s having your clothes stick to your skin, all clammy and irritating. But these ‘concerns’ seem paltry compared to all the great things about summer.
All in all, grishsho kaal has it’s own addictive charm. So I’m gonna pull up an easy chair, nurse a glass of chilled float in my hands, and just take a load off my feet and lie back to enjoy the season in all its glory. Care to join me?
Grishsho or summer in this city of ours stands for so many, myriad of snap-shot memories or events. There’s inhaling the fragrances and appreciating the blazing hues of the lush flowers in perfect bloom – the regal rojonigondhas, the sunny shonalu and kodomphuls, the fiery red krishnochuras and rongons (the latter which I used to pick as a child to suck out the honey nectar inside), and the sweet-smelling beli, bokul, jui and gondhorajs. There’s eating something really cold on a really hot day, which tends to send an ache right through your jaws and head, but feels oh so great. There’s standing for hours-on-end under the invigorating beat of a cool, cool shower, feeling the rivulets of water roll down your scalp and skin, soothing your over-heated body. There’s the sudden increase in TV commercials and press ads for ice creams, icy soft drinks, air conditioners, and prickly heat powders.
There’s the onset of thunderstorms and rains from Pahela Baishakah onwards, falling in synchronized plunges into the lakes and ponds, and which bring with them one of the bestest grishsho smells ever – bhija maatir shoda gondho. Too bad you can’t bottle it up and market it, haha. And you hear the timeless composition of Mother Nature – the roll of thunder, the rimjhim and tapurtupur of brishti, the cricketycrick of crickets, the croaks of frogs – pure music to the ears.
There’re the fresh, fresh summer fruits and veggies. I love the variety and all the beautiful colors! I remember as a kid eagerly awaiting my father’s return from the kaacha bajar with sopping bags teeming with luscious aams, juicy lichus and pungent kathaals. Brings back some delightful memories of being a carefree kid on a sultry summer afternoon, gulping down all the yummy treats till it felt my tummy was gonna burst. I still over-indulge these days! Guess some things never change, thank god!
Then there are a few items on the ‘I-can-definitely-do-without-these-during-grishsho’ list. There’s the dratted load shedding which goes with the territory of summers in Dhaka city, making the heat more unbearable. There’s the chance of getting food poisoning after having some questionable looking glass of juice from a street-side vendor. There’s bugs, particularly mosquitoes and ants, which suddenly seen to come alive in the armies! There’s having your clothes stick to your skin, all clammy and irritating. But these ‘concerns’ seem paltry compared to all the great things about summer.
All in all, grishsho kaal has it’s own addictive charm. So I’m gonna pull up an easy chair, nurse a glass of chilled float in my hands, and just take a load off my feet and lie back to enjoy the season in all its glory. Care to join me?
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