Joy of watching the rain kiss the earth

It was a video that lasted all of fifty-two seconds. I watched as my father-in-law gently rocked in the swing enjoying the evening showers somewhere in the Southern part of India. I watched the video a couple of times and finally took a deep breath in and spread my arms. I could feel the wetness spread over my skin and I could even smell the drenched earth through my phone screen. Just like that, my lips broke into a smile. In a blink, I could simply live the small moment that my father-in-law was living and my head felt light.

I love watching the rain kiss the earth. I enjoy how the water droplets make funny patterns on the window screen. I revel in the soothing rhythm of the pitter patter as they dash the ground and form strange looking cups.

Rain in my childhood meant finding water puddles. After a spell of shower, my friends and I would arm ourselves with different versions of paper boats and try them to float. Many times, the boats would crumble to nothingness and on a rare occasion, it would lose itself to a torrent of stream and we would rejoice in the thought that some other person would find it and may look for a message.

When I was a teenager, the monsoon swayed in with its fair share of adventures with the umbrella and sprinkled us with irritating and hilarious moments. The wind invariably tipped the light canopy holders in our hands leaving us to the mercy of the downpour and sometimes, letting us play a tug of war — all just a small part of the brilliant season. On cool rain soaked evenings, my friends and I would take long walks and hum romantic film songs — smiling, laughing and being silly.

In my adult life, rain was simply a nuisance. For one, it was unpredictable. I couldn’t plan my outings, washing and I almost felt gloomy during the unprecedented downpour.

Showers of delight

Something changed in me when Sid was just over a year old. Lil Sid stood on the small balcony of my sister’s house in Mumbai. There, as he watched the first showers of the Monsoon, Sid squealed in delight and took one wobbly step after the other and ran into my arms. “Rain has water in it,” he clapped as he said in his baby language. My heart softened and my whole world lit up as Sid pointed to the droplets outside with his pudgy fingers.

As Sid grew into his toddler years, he greeted every single downpour with an umbrella. He stood resolutely as he fiddled with his colourful rain protecting gadget and screamed as his face soaked in the miracle of water droplets from the sky.

Not much changed even during his teenage years when he decided to grab a poncho and brave the outdoors and with his every act, my own reaction to the grey bellied clouds began to gradually change. I laughed with Sid, sometimes even managed to hum a tune, splash water and watch the tiny droplets on the window and trace its journey across the screen. When heavy rains thronged the city of Mumbai two years ago, Sid and I held each other as we navigated tiny pools on the roads and even managed to film a little rivulet gush along the drains on our phones. “Incredible”, we sighed.

Now, after two long pandemic filled years of no travel, I sit in my air-conditioned room and live all the numerous moments of the season I have experienced. As I replay the video of my father-in-law enjoying the monsoon. I hope the day isn’t far when I can sit next to him and feel the coolness under my feet or even hum a tune or two.