Rain always has a greater significance in my mind. I refrain myself from considering it from mere scientific viewpoint. Especially when the rain represents the spectacular Monsoon; inspiration of millions of literary minds… I can’t help myself. Rain has magical attribute of reflecting the state of our minds. Rain can be sad. Rain can be cheerful. I tell a dramatic story about how rain originates here in this sub-continent. Hear me out, it’s a romantic one. Once Bay of Bengal fell in love with Summer. It was okay at first but as time went by their feelings went sour. Summer being a highly ambitious girl, unsatisfied with whatever Bay of Bengal had to offer; always sent hurtful resentment (scorching heat of summer) to his mind. His sadness (evaporated sea-water) heightened to the sky. One day an amazing girl (cool air above) came into the life of this saddened man. They fell in love with each other. With her graceful touch of love, condensed sadness of Bay of Bengal melted down on earth from his teary eyes in form of rain. Occasionally, it floods here due to too much rain when their love spill over from heart. So, to me rain is tears of joy; symbol of a remarkable romance.
I came to visit my parents at my village home. It’s been raining here all day since yesterday. I didn’t go out yesterday. I stayed laid on bed and read Shattyajit Roy all day. My bed is just beside the window. Last night when raining I opened the slide window. I could listen to its enchanting melody till very late at night. I felt sad. Loads of memories from past came crashing in. That song from Hypnogaja was playing on repeat inside my head:
“Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion
I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want to dive in your ocean
Is it raining with you?”
But Luke Bryan says rain is a good thing not a sad thing:
“Rain makes corn; corn makes whiskey
Whiskey makes my baby, feel a little frisky”
Today I woke up early and promised myself to enjoy the whole day. It went far better than what I expected. Now I want to say to Luke that we don’t have to look forward to this kind of chain course of actions to justify how rain fills our heart with bountiful happiness. It’s easier here in Bangladesh. Trust me all you need to do is ‘Step Outside’.
It was cloudy before dawn. Sky looked like a glowing blue ceiling on which grey cottons were glued in uneven scattered way. Drizzly breeze blowing past me while I kept looking at the sky. Suddenly a flock of black throated divers interrupted my view… happy interruption. They were out on a hunting mission. Wind was chilling. I found myself craving for a cup of hot tea. I asked mum if I could have it. She replied ‘In a minute son’. Amazing woman my mum. We have a boat in our pond. It is used for picking fruits from trees that extend over pond. It’s fun eating fruits while riding boat around pond. I finished my tea and prepared boat to have a ride around. It was fun. Although there was an umbrella fixed on it I couldn’t continue my relaxation due to sudden heavy shower. I ran back to house. As I was standing at the gate and wishing to go on another ride if rain stops I noticed something. First I thought it was couple of bug bitten leaves. When I looked closer I saw a nest of ‘Tuntuni’ bird. There were 4 eggs in that nest cradled safely with two leaves. Beautiful crafting by their parents. I waited at a distant to catch a photo of the nest along with the birds. Well, I failed.
We have a fish project behind our home. To reach there I had to cross a jungle in the middle. People say paranormal stories about this jungle. Some say, once a girl came here to collect dry logs for cooking. She never came back home. When people searched for her in that jungle; all they found was a bundle of dry log and her footwear. No trace of that girl. Some claim to see a lurking white creature half tiger half human roaming around with a skull on his hand. With intensity of trees this place always looks like ‘afternoon on its way’. On rainy days like this when sky hosts dark and grey; this place turns into a mysterious scary heaven of spirits. But these days, people deforesting the area and building houses so evil falling before threat. Whenever I visit my village I never miss to visit the fish project. That area reminds me of an ideal rural area with acres of cultivated land, farmers with traditional dress, young cowboys herding cattle and children playing barefooted on mud and what not! Never fails to serve an enchanting heart-thrilling panoramic view. But now this place looked like a plain sheet of water. The farmers became fishermen; throwing nets from boats, children fishing with small triangular fishing gear while young cowboys brought their cattle to feast on fresh green grass. There were ‘Kadam’ flowers and water lilies everywhere. It was a sight to behold.
It was almost noon. I was roaming around for a long time. I needed a shower. Just when I thought about this, in no time rain started again. I put my phone in a polythene bag and prepared for a natural bath under cloudy sky. I saw a group of boys having good time trolling one another and slipping on the mud. I remember when I was a kid my dad never let me play on a rainy day like this. I could hardly go out. He is a doctor… rest of which should make sense. He was at his medical center so nobody kept me from soaking in the rain. Although I didn’t join those kids cause it would look weird for 20 years old boy like me. But my soul did play along. After taking shower both in rain and in pond, I went back home. I was really hungry after all those walking and swimming. When I entered home I found smell of ‘Vuna khichuri’. I changed clothes and walked into kitchen to see what’s mum had been preparing for lunch. I was right. Vuna khichuri with roasted duck and mango pickle……yummmm!
After having lunch I gossiped with my mum and sister about the day, showed these photographs and was catching up all of our stories. My sister and I stay at the capital to study. We study at the same city but we hardly see each other. My parents stay at the suburb. My dad’s hospital is in this area. So loads of stories to share when we reunite. It was raining outside, we were watching through the glass window and talking and talking and talking. Rain does remind us of past so much. When mum tells us about the events took place when we were away, we listen with full concentration. She is such a good storyteller that we don’t even remind her when she tells about things that she already told us over phone when we were away. This is one of those highlighted times I look forward to when I am at the village.
At night when dad’s back, he initiates another episode of storytelling about his patients… illustrating their happiness, sorrows, hopes and agony in our minds. It’s a beautiful thing. He always does that. Sometimes when I visit my dad while he is working at his hospital I have to wait while his patients tell me all about my dad’s heroism and philanthropy. This is one of those factors that contributed to turn my dad into my ‘Hero’. After coming back and freshening up when he is not too busy reading newspaper, we play Snake Ladder game while marching sound of rain and frog’s croaking glorifies the night.
So rainy days are not that bad afterall right?