Call of the rain bird…..

Image Courtesy: Arabian Gazette

There is always an inner child in you craving to do somersaults when it rains. Being open to the present moment is an innate gift of being a child, one of the perennial treasures we compromised being an adult.

”Ma, there is a bug in my PUBG”, a cute little munchkin, a 10-year-old boy was complaining to his mother without taking his eyes off from his iPhone.

”It’s raining, maybe bad signal, I will fix it later, okay”. The super stylish mom commented even without lifting her eyes off from a lip-syncing tik-tok video bursting into laughter in between.

It’s just another day of my daily commutes from work and back home by Train. I get to see the life of people around me a little closer. The train was halted for a cross over train and the rain picked up its momentum bringing a lovely splash of its glory inside.

”Please shut down the window, oh my god, my phone”. Now in my compartment, all windows down and all phones are safe.

Somewhere one window panel was up and I can see the stunning lightning and bold thunders, the splash of raindrops and a feeling of contentment and romance in the air. Rain slows down everything in Bangalore; the train; the traffic. Still, we won’t yell at each other. It brings a mood-lift, making the daily sojourns of life more tolerable.

”Is that a real Gucci leather bag ?” -my friend asked and before I could answer, she made a snap judgment. ”It can’t be”.

April showers blessed Bangalore right before and after Vishu, the Malayali new year. In India,we celebrate new year more than 4 to 5 times a year as ethnically we are so diverse in culture and languages. Ask any foreigner, what is the language of India? Pat comes the reply” Indian”.

The smell of the fresh earth drenched in rain was all around me. I can sniff and tell the difference of the smell of the mud in Kerala and Bangalore.

My heart took a quantum leap back to my childhood days. April showers were not just showers. It’s torrential. The petrichor, that smell is something to die for. The hide and seek of the mist and the golden sun;the overpowering mist blurring the lines of the sky ,sea and the earth;paddy fields stretching to the crimson evening sky and the call of the rain bird;the pied crested cuckoo,a ringing composition of whistling notes; sets the prelude for the heavenly orchestra true to the name of God’s own country. Along with the rain; earthworms, grasshoppers, locusts, dragonflies, millipedes make its lavish presence. I always spot a friendly pachilapambu (the slender green vine snake) winking at me from a black pepper tree or a curry leaf tree.

As kids,we make an umbrella out of the huge leaves of the Taro Plant and cling to dad’s shoulders and visit the local roadside shop for the steaming tea, set dosa and chutney.

”Amma,marapatti ” I cry out to my mom when I hear the loud whispers of a family of harmless civet cats that looks like mongoose scurrying around the attic of my house.

Lots of silver fishes, sardines, river fishes, water snakes,baby turtles flee from backwaters and fill up the flooded paddy fields, tadpoles swim around while the pedestrian path in between the fields gets submerged by rain.

The sound of the rain can be heard by the rising volume of hurl of the swaying coconut trees dancing to some unknown hip-hop of nature. Nights are desperate with the clarion call of mating by the frogs and the crickets .These are the magic moments of the incessant love story of Kerala and Rain.

Through the window panel, the day was getting a darker shade.I was just lucky to spot a cluster of moving glow worms.

If we care a little more for the green cover, we don’t need to visit a national park to see butterflies and glowworms.

They would be in our backyards and front yards just like the mosquitoes and cockroaches due to reckless garbage dumping.

When we are not in a mood to lift our eyes from the all captivating phone screen, do we make an effort to plant a seed? Obviously, no. The sprouted potato we recklessly throw away, a rotten tomato, a ginger root, garlic, onion can be given a new life if we just recycle it. I guess it is the other way around; they can give us a new life.

My heart was filling with overwhelming joy as the rain lifted a lot of weighing thoughts from me. I was connecting to my inner child and was caught with a smile.

My friend asked, ”Why smile, any news update?” I told her ”nothing, just tik-tok video”. She smiled back in agreement. What if I told her, I was just happy without any reason.

I don’t know whether she will accept that.

The evening twilight was giving way t pitch black night. The train left me with a trail of thoughts.

As adults we give in to a lot of peer pressure, trying to fit into a life based on someone else’s attributions. Sadly for most of the time, we don’t even know them well; still, we want to live a life picture-perfect for other’s judgment.

When we live a hyperactive virtual life letting Alexa, Siri and other apps to control our lives, we miss these blissful orchestras from heaven-a thunder, lightning, an April shower, a glow worm that lifts a lot of burden from our lives.

Let go that inner child…….follow the present moment.