Friday, June 19, 2009

Crying in the rain

Crying in the rain



India is mostly a sun burnt country, a land of sweeping plains of ragged mountain ranges, sun kissed beaches, a land of droughts and flooding rains….. Normally the gentle drumbeats of rain announces the onset of the monsoons, however for the past two years, tranquil introductions of the rains have been replaced by towering mountains of clouds which empties itself rapidly on an unsuspecting town, inundating and swallowing large districts in its wake.

The monsoon is a double edged scythe bringing life sustenance and also a share of death and destruction. The rain bearing seasonal winds that sweep into the country riding the crest of the tropical oceans, egged on by El Nino will always remain life’s critical uncertainty

REVERSE GEAR 26/11/05 (Hard rain):
Like a storm on the horizon ominous dark clouds descended on the town, the skies opened up and a torrential downpour enveloped the city. The clouds bunched like a horde of vampire bats led by Dracula leapt down, creating a fog as thick as cheese spread was only spilt intermittently by zigzag flashes of lightning accompanied by the crackle (cackle) of thunder. The gushing water mauled the whole city, destroyed buildings, dwellings, cars and mankind. Bridges and vehicles were swept away by the floods which formed a new river of devastation on the streets. People, branches, trees, plastic bags, shoes, dogs, and cars were floating like buoys and all life came to a stand still……

The only thing that moved was the surging flood waters, which rushed through the town, shops and stalls, where people had haggled for wares, were all now five feet under water. Windows smashed by the weight of the rain. Dead bodies of drowned humans, dogs, buffaloes, along with flotsam moved like a slow tableau.

That night went on forever… like an interminable hell, whose waters washed away the sins of a decadent city. In the dawn lights, the city seemed serene and relaxed like awakening from the alcoholic stupor the day after!! Before I even completed this page….that memory too has become ancient. During the long drive home as the rain beats a tattoo on my windscreen, I shudder to think what would have happened if the rains had not ceased. This is the uncertainty in the storm called “life”.

Vinay Kumar.K.

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