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Temple of Rain

Some days ago, J declared "I would love to live in a place where I get to eat fresh mangoes and cherries all year long". Those are her favorite fruits and the operative word is of course "fresh". I am not sure where exactly J's Shangri La is situated but it can easily be mine as well. I do know where she could get her wish for fresh mangoes at least for a few months of the year. Adding cherries to the mix throws a spanner in the works.

So anyways we got talking about the kind of climate it takes for the best mangoes to grow. The heat that bakes and scorches the earth and makes every pore of you crave for respite. You watch the first clouds of monsoon approach tantalizingly but float away in the end. The ritual is repeated for days. You wait for that magic moment when the clouds will not be as fickle, when they will be full enough to burst upon the parched land. That's what it takes to make the best mangoes.

The deliverance of monsoon is a difficult concept to get across to a child who has only lived in a country where rain is viewed as a bit of an annoyance. She can't grasp how it could be such a big event and a celebration even.

Dhan Gopal Mukherji in his book Rajani - Songs of the Night describes the rain of my home ever so beautifully

The night builds her temple of rain :
In the forest a sobbing music
Played by the hands of darkness
On the scale of dark leaves.

I wonder if J will skip the cherries and settle for the incomparable temple of rain instead.

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Suchi said…
My colleagues in Australia seemed a bit surprised that rain, of all things, was seen as romantic in India. In Melbourne, rain is usually accompanied by cold weather, so you wouldn't want to get drenched in the rain as you would in India.
12:55 PM
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