Magic rain….come again

It rains steadily outside my window. In school, we used to call it “raining cats and dogs” which I always thought was funny because it would be one painful downpour if that happened, for the cats, the dogs and all those being rained upon. Hah! I look at the trees and the grass and looks like new life has been breathed into them. They don’t just look less tired. They look positively radiant, almost like they are turning their heads up to the rain to catch it on their faces.

I’m not really a rain person if I am outside. Growing up in India, you don’t necessarily love the rain. With rain comes mud spattered clothing as you maneuver the streets, wet pants or bottoms du jour from the rain beating around you, getting poked by umbrellas from other commuters on your mode of transport and a general lingering wet dog smell on and around you. So when people ask me about dancing in the rain like they do in Bollywood movies, I cringe inwardly. Growing up, THAT was not even on my mind. Dancing in the rain and mud….eesh! Whoever thought that would be fun, let alone romantic. Rain was purely instrumental in cleansing Mother Nature, watering the fields for farmers, filling up the rivers and seas and yes providing a much needed reprieve from the hot sun beating down on us.

But as I sat inside yesterday, safely ensconced in my house watching the rain come down in my backyard, I began to see how it is something to appreciate. The steady beating of the rain on the skylight, the way the raindrops form rivulets that run down the length of the window, that slight low hanging fog that makes it look like you’re on a vacation at a hilltop inn. My dog is outside, soaking wet. He is harassed by the heat and in classic Bollywood fashion has chosen to dance in the rain to cool off. He almost has a smile on his face too. 🙂

It’s a serious downpour so no room for any outdoorsy stuff while it lasts. So I turn back to my favorite therapy. Cooking. I make hot Indian tea with ginger, a staple for monsoon months back home. I’m now also considering pakoras – crispy, hot, yummy chunks of shredded onions or sliced potatoes, dipped in chick pea batter and fried to perfection. I remember my mom making these for my dad since they were his favorites. Sadly they are vetoed by the hubby which brings me back to the drawing table. I so wanted them pakoras. Sigh 🙂

I grab my ginger tea, find me a blanket to cuddle under and go sit by the window. I want to write but topics evade me. So I turn on my music. Seems like a Lana del Ray kinda day. I can’t help but reminisce about my childhood back in India during monsoon. I loved listening to the rain patter on the top of my dad’s car. Loved how it soaked everything in sight, no exceptions. Loved how kids scurried out to make paper boats or just splash in the puddles. Yes, I loved to watch all this from the dry safety of my house. As I get older though, I feel this urge to say “eh, what will a little rain do to me” and go for it. I told my mom about it and she said to let her know when I took the “giant leap” because it’s so not in my personality. Guess I’m undergoing a change then. 😉

As I write this blog today, sitting on my porch outside, I think the plants look a little happier, the grass a little greener and the birds a little more chirpier. The sun is shining, the bees are out and Mother Nature looks like, I wrote this in a school essay years ago and I now quote “she is dressed in a bright green saree”! More rain please.



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