The Rain Drain..

The Rain Drain..

“Rain Rain,
Go away,
Come again,
Another day,
Little Johnny wants to play.”

This riddle reminds me of my childhood memories of monsoon season. The lazy days when we used to make paper boats and float them in the little ponds formed outside our house by rain waters. I can recall the childish joy of getting drenched from head till toe and jumping around like a crazy frog. The renowned ghazal singer Jagjit Singh has beautifully portrayed it in his words:
“Ye daulat bhi lelo,
Ye shohrat bhi lelo,
Bhale cheen lo mujhse meri jawaani,
Magar mujhko lauta do bachpan ka saawan,
Wo kaagaz ki kashti, wo baarish ka paani…”

I remember the monsoon mornings, when my mother would give me an umbrella with advice of not getting soaked in the expected rains but she knew all that was an effort in vain. On way back from school, we would ask the auto rickshaw walla to stop at the nearby ice lolly shop and enjoy the orange bar with whatever paltry pocket money we got. What followed was the obvious, viral fever.

As they say, time flies like a butterfly. I grew up and entered my teens. The rains were then awaited, by me and my friends, to play football in the huge playground in our colony, which would turn into a messy field in the rainy season. All of us would then show off our skills and prove our physical fitness, as playing on a wet field was never easy. The skids on the field and the bruises on our legs coming from each other’s spikes (special shoes worn for playing football) made the game a muscular sport. The outcome was the pain from injuries that would succumb on us and confide us to our bedrooms for days. But that would never dampen our spirits and we were back on the field every next time, full of zeal and confidence.

The hands of the time machine tickled rapidly and then started my college life. This time, the rains were welcomed by me and my friends for the sluggishness that accompanied it. We would sit in the corridors of our college and have “chai” with sumptuous samosa’s served at the college canteen The other option was to sit at the Café Coffee Day at Kamla Nagar and sip hot coffee as if there was no tomorrow. Those sessions would last for hours with jokes and gossips, being an integral part of it.

Today I sit in my balcony watching the agony of the rain gods. It has been raining cats and dogs for the past twenty four hours and the earthy terrain of Delhi has received a downpour of about 167 mm. The roads are all swamped with the filthy waters which have been let loose by the peripheral drains on the road sides. The traffic jams are taking their own normal time. The news channels are also flooded with reports on the chaotic state of the city life. I took a leave from office and preferred staying back at home to enjoy the weather.

Again on one hand, when the weather is such that there are clouds around but it doesn’t rain, we blame the rain gods for being ruthless and making us a victim of the moist and humid environment. On the other hand when it rains to our satisfaction, this is the plight that we are reduced to.

I think it is all about the perspective about a particular thing which changes with time. While I was a child, I used to welcome monsoons like a thirsty crow. Today I find myself caught up with all strings of office life that the same monsoons appear to be a disturbance in the daily life. The water in front of my house, which was called a pound for floating my paper boat, is now called as “water logging”.
I very humbly acknowledge that with time people and their perspective changes.