Meghdoot

A story of the monsoon

The farmer takes a break from ploughing his dry land to look towards the scorching sun with with his hands covering the his face to save himself from the direct sunlight. All he sees are clear skies as far as the eye can see, while his Close by women gather around the now small nearly dried up pond to collect the water. Today will pass with water, but the worried look on their faces tells it all. Children are mostly indoors, trying to protect themselves.

In the evening, the elderly gather around the old banyan tree, which provides some comfort against the heat, to listen to the news on the radio for when the rains might arrive. It seems, it may take a while. The entire village has been facing a severe drought for months. A few weeks more could mean that they may have to leave this place and move somewhere else.

The sun has set, and so have the villagers hopes of getting any respite soon. They tuck in with the hope that tomorrow would be better.

Morning comes us a surprise as the entire village is startled by the loud boom they hear. The men rush out, while the women check in on the others, some scared and others too sleepy to bother.

They aren’t greeted by the harsh orange hue that has bothered them for months. Instead they see dark, clouds covering the entire sky. A flash and a another boom as thunder deafens the entire area. It’s as if the heavens themselves are fighting. A smile covers an old mans face. The farmer looks at it, with eyes full of hope. Then a child felt a drop on his forehead. He screamed ‘baarish’ as loud as his tiny voice could let him. It began pouring in minutes, cooling the earth and letting out the petrichor, giving everyone a sense of comfort. The women felt relaxed as the downpour started filling the ponds. The farmer heaved a sigh of relief, he can finally sow. They felt that the Gods had finally blessed them. This was the beginning of the monsoon. The meghdoot had arrived.