Nine Rain Moments

by Anupama Krishnakumar

[box]In nine little stories, Anupama Krishnakumar sets rains as the backdrop and spins tales around the ‘navarasas’ or the nine human emotions namely love, laughter, disgust, anger, peace, bravery, fear, compassion and wonder.[/box]

Shringara (Love/Beauty)

Yesterday, I saw Maitreyi dancing in the rain. I couldn’t resist. I simply couldn’t. I hurriedly walked up to where she was. She was swirling. The water droplets from the edge of her pallu fell on my face. I didn’t mind getting drenched. What was it about her that caught me so suddenly? She wasn’t that sort of beauty who would stump you. Yet, there was something. Slender frame, tall, long hair; drenched in the rain, the cream saree stuck to her body; she seemed not to care at all; a delicate shadow against a crimson sky as silver droplets kissed her all over. When she saw me, I caught a glimpse of her large, kohl-outlined eyes.

I never realized I loved her so much till then. Did the rains cast some magical spell? The moment she saw me, emotions danced in her eyes – a strange fright, a longing, a certain shyness. Her gaze was one that would take someone to a distant world, where the stars and the moon and clouds would keep you company. We had known each other for ten years and yet I felt like I was seeing her for the first time. I heard violins play in the background. I seized her by her waist, held her right hand with my left, pulled her close to me with my left hand. I gently put her left hand on my shoulder and we danced. She looked right into my eyes and then closed hers as I kept looking at her. I inched closer and we slowed down our step and she opened her eyes. I touched that curl dangling near her left ear. I could feel her breath on my face and I thought she could sense mine on hers. And then, she shivered, slightly. What a magical moment it was.

Hasya (Laughter/Amusement)

It had been raining all day. Sreeni Sir regretted that he had to miss his evening walk again. He was tired of reading the newspapers. Hehadn’t spared anything in them including the obit sections. He sighed as he sat relaxing on the easy chair. There was no power and an occasional lightening lit up the skies outside. A dim candle burned, standing on an old wooden stool, a little away from where he sat. Arjun was visibly thrilled. He had dragged a chair and seated himself comfortably near the window to watch the heavy downpour. It pleased him so much that he clapped his hands once in a while in glee, particularly when the skies roared with thunder. Sreeni Sir was amused looking at his five-year-old grandson. Arjun seemed to be drawing delight out of something that his seventy-five-year-old grandfather no longer held any fascination for. Suddenly, Sreeni Sir stirred in his chair and wrapped the shawl closer around himself. The easy chair creaked for want of lubrication. Arjun turned. ’What happened Grandpa?’ he asked, sounding innocently concerned.

‘Nothing my boy, I am just feeling a little cold,’ Sreeni Sir replied.

Arjun jumped off his seat and settled down near Sreeni Sir’s feet. Much to Sreeni Sir’s surprise, the boy lifted his grandfather’s feet and put them on his lap.

‘Arjun, what are you doing?’ Sreeni Sir asked.

‘I am going to rub your feet to keep you warm. Grandma did that yesterday, I saw,’ the boy replied.

Sreeni Sir was moved. Tears were already stinging his eyes. ‘Don’t bother dear,’ he said, trying to reach out to the boy. But, grandson was insistent. Sreeni Sir sniffed and blew his nose. Arjun stood up and peered into Sreeni Sir’s face. ‘Grandpa, have you caught a cold?’

‘No, my boy. I am crying thinking of my little grandson trying to help me. I feel so happy,’ he said.

‘Grandpa, when you are happy, you should laugh, isn’t it?’

Sreeni Sir smiled. He nodded.

‘See, I will make you laugh now,’ the little boy said and settled down once again near Sreeni Sir’s feet. He took one of them with his hand, and placing it on his lap, began running his small fingers over it, in a childish effort to tickle his grandpa away to laughter. An amused Sreeni Sir pretended to laugh out loud and hugged his adorable grandson.

Bhibatsya (Disgust)

Nobody expected it to rain that night. The skies had remained clear for much part of the day. At about six in the evening, the drizzle began and soon it turned intense. Someone said the situation was pretty bad outside. Sitting at office, Veena wondered how she would get back home. It was best to leave the two-wheeler behind, she decided. Some of her friends suggested that they could do car pooling. Mayank agreed. You guys can come along with me and I will drop you at some point, he suggested to Veena and three other colleagues. They agreed and set out. Veena noticed that the condition outside was worse than what she had imagined. Traffic was outrageously slow, water logging was becoming a major problem, car tyres began getting stuck, mobile phones were turning useless as networks were jammed. Mayank managed to deviate from the usual routes hoping to gain a break through somewhere and speed up his driving. Much to their despair, hell had indeed broken loose in the city. As Mayank drove through the less familiar roads, Veena watched the world outside from inside the car. Slum dwellers were hurrying back and forth, trying to gather whatever they could of their already meager existence. Veena pitied them. How horrible it was to lose one’s shelter. At one point, when Mayank pulled down the window to ask for directions, an unbearable stench entered the car like a devil waiting to get in. Veena almost puked and grabbing her handkerchief, covered her nose. Suddenly, it was disgust that overwhelmingly rode over the pity that she had felt a few seconds ago. She buried her face into her lap. Mayank closed the window and turned around. ‘Veena, all ok?’ he enquired. Veena nodded, hot with shame – the warmth of which only she felt.

Rowdra (Anger)

Excitement had already reached a new high on Sunday morning as I waited for the van to pick me up. My parents, after a week-long battle, finally had agreed to let me go for a get-away to Khandala that my friends had planned. We were done with our university exams and we decided we needed a day’s break from all the tension that we had gone through. So, it did arrive – the tempo traveler that we had booked, one that would take fifteen of us, young adults like we loved to be called, to Khandala and get us back in the evening. I was thrilled to be out on my own, all alone, without any inhibitions and of course – no nerve cracking instructions. Once inside, I watched some of my friends cozying up to their already going-steady-boyfriends. Zoya was exchanging shy glances with Rishi. Something was indeed cooking up between the two. I guessed that by evening they would announce that they were a couple. I knew what a place like Khandala can do to those in love. It had a certain magic. While the cupid-struck ones carried on with their dashy romantic encounters – holding hands, leaning on each other’s shoulders, trying to be very secretive, particularly staying watchful of the driver, the rest of us, who didn’t have much else to do, decided to indulge in a favourite book or listen to music. I plugged the earphones into my ears and opted for a song shuffle on my iPod. A light drizzle set in. I left the window open and let the rain drops caress my face. The cool air lifted my spirits and somehow the songs on my list began to sync with the greenery outside. To someone watching me, it surely would have appeared that I was dreaming. At one point, as my iPod moved from one song to the next, I realized Shravan had been looking at me intently. It kind of startled me. Shit, I thought, had I been looking at him all the time without even realizing it?

Once we reached Khandala, we decided to foot some of the distance. The weather was so unpredictable. The sky was sunny one moment and laden with dense clouds the next. It soon began to pour dramatically and the green of the place suddenly lifted to a heavenly setup. The couples walked along, holding hands, getting drenched. I preferred to remain a solitary walker. At one point, we all stood and watched a waterfall at a distance. Shravan was standing too close to me that I could almost feel his breath on my neck. I wanted to turn around and tell him to stay away and that it was getting uncomfortable. But, when I turned, he took my face in his hands and kissed me hard and long on my lips. Shocked, stunned, I pushed him back with great effort and the next second, as hot tears streamed down my face along with the rain drops, I slapped him hard on his face. I was incredibly angry and the rain could do nothing to cool me down as I stormed past everyone.

Shanta (Peace)

Gopalan loved Palakkad. He and his wife, Sunanda, had decided long ago that once they got their children married off, they would settle down in his ancestral house in Palakkad. Life somehow felt peaceful in a place which they had known as children. What a contrast it was to the hectic, fast-paced life they had led in Delhi! That particular afternoon, as Gopalan sat reminiscing the good old days that he had spent in the house that had belonged to his great grandfather, dense clouds began to gather. A cool wind set in. All Gopalan needed in that weather was a cup of warm ginger tea and some music. Blessed, wasn’t he? His wife soon brought over a cup of piping hot ginger tea. Then, she went into the puja room to fetch her tanpura. Gopalan married Sunanda because he fell head over heels in love with her voice and the way she rendered music, with so much devotion.

Gopalan settled down near one of the massive pillars that dominated the architecture of the house. Sunanda smiled at her music-crazy husband and began running her fingers over the strings of the tanpura. She started with an alaap and soon moved on to sing Muthuswami Dikshithar’s ‘Ananadamrutha Karshini’ in the raga Amrutavarshini. Music filled the room and Gopalan closed his eyes and rejoiced. It was absolutely divine and when Sunanda rounded back to the pallavi after the swarams, he opened his eyes to see his wife. How beautiful she looked! When she finished, they heard a loud thunder and the rains came down loud and heavy. Amruthavarshini it seemed to Gopalan, had brought the rains outside and an extraordinary sense of peace within.

Veera (Bravery/Self Confidence)

Madhu was just returning from a friend’s party. It had rained a while ago and although it was no longer even drizzling, Madhu’s mood was quite sloppy. She had to walk through all that slush to reach the auto stand at the end of the road. Ranjith had offered to drop her on the bike if she waited for ten minutes more. Madhu had not even thought twice before rejecting his offer outright. For one, she didn’t like him. He was too nosy she thought. Secondly, he had already downed three mugs of beer by the time he offered to drop her. The last thing she wanted was to break her head or worse, die in an accident and that too with a guy she hated. The third reason was he always made fun of her Karate skills. He had brought up the subject at the party too, to spice up a conversation among a gang of friends. ‘I am worse than a fool if I went with him’, she decided and left, giving some lame excuse. And now on the road, the slush was adding to the irritation that Ranjith had sparked off. Once she entered the main road, halfway through, she heard some hooting and laughter. She looked across the almost empty road and saw that all the commotion was coming from the bus stop across.

Three young but roguish looking fellows were teasing two girls standing at the bus stop, which appeared quite deserted, perhaps because of the rains. Clutching her folded umbrella and bag, wearing a determined expression on her face, Madhu crossed the road. One of the men, who saw her approaching, whistled out loud and hooted. The other two were busy singing songs at the two girls. Madhu walked up straight to the man who had whistled at her and asked him, ‘Rascal, don’t you have brains? Do you want to get kicked to death?’ At this the man burst out laughing and said, ‘Look here da, Kiran Bedi is warning us!’ The other two roared at the comment and the girls looked all the more panicky. Madhu was fuming and as the man who called her Kiran Bedi continued to laugh, she handed over her bag and umbrella to one of the girls and in a flash of a second, punched the fellow on his stomach and kicked him hard on his knees. Shocked, ashamed, he fell with a thud on to the ground. The other two men, appalled at the happenings, took a step or two back, hands over their mouths. ‘Go away, now,’ Madhu screamed, ‘else I will call the police.’ Meanwhile, a passing auto stopped seeing the commotion. The driver and a security guard at an apartment a few yards away came over and shoved the fellows away. The guy who fell glared at Madhu. Madhu didn’t care, she glared back. It began to drizzle again.

Bhaya (Fear)

‘Ma,’ Sunita recalled how her son, when he was three years old, had cried after he had come running to her and hugged her, totally frightened. It was raining heavily that night and the thunder had shaken up her little son really badly. ‘Akash, that’s thunder and see it’s raining outside,’ she had said pointing to the rain that was falling straight, outside in the open terrace. ‘You shouldn’t get scared, beta. The Gods are trying to play with you that way,’ she had consoled the young one. Akash wouldn’t just let go of his mama’s sari. ‘No ma, please. I don’t want to see,’ he had almost been in tears. Sunita had picked him up, and walking slowly towards the terrace, had let him put out his tiny hands first to feel the rain. He had cried, wailed rather loudly. But, she perfectly knew that the fear had to be dispelled. No, my son should face everything boldly, she had decided with the vivacity of a young mother, dreaming big for her boy. She had put his hands out, pulled them back, put them out, pulled them back again and soon the fear had begun ebbing out. The next day she took him out and let him run about in the rain for two minutes.

And soon, year after year, there were at least three days during the monsoon that Akash and she would dance in the rain. She would drag him out and they would jump, hug and kiss each other and even jive once in a while. And now, here she was, sitting and mending her old shawl. It was getting cold; the rains had begun a little early this year around. As she sat peering, trying to put the thread through the needle’s eye, she felt his hand on her shoulder. ‘Akash,’ she said as she turned around to look at her son. He had come home on a vacation. ‘Ma,’ he said, ‘it’s raining outside and what are you doing sitting here? Come on, let’s go,’ he said helping her get up from her chair.

Sunita shook a little. ‘No, Akash, my legs aren’t strong anymore,’ she replied, sounding scared. ‘I am there, right, why do you worry?’ he said and she reluctantly got up and walked with him – into the rain. They didn’t dance, but she stood holding her son’s hand and feeling the rain as freshly as she had the first time she took him out to get drenched. And as she stood with him, her grandson and daughter-in-law watched the mother and son. In all those years, there were things that had changed; like the fear that swapped its place from the son to the mother. And, there were some others that hadn’t changed – like the joy of getting drenched in the rain. It was just that she was sixty five and her son was thirty five.

Karuna (Compassion)

I usually take two buses to reach my workplace. Today, during the second leg of my journey, it began raining. The shutters came down on the bus and I viewed the rain-hit world outside through the window glass. The innumerable slums on the way were almost falling prey to the devastation but still stood up. The inmates didn’t dare to stop and carried on briskly with their business. Rains have an effect on me; they make me go nostalgic. So, it is not surprising that the bus journey till office was filled with moments from the past. I recalled how despite my mother’s angry shouting, my brother and I would play football in the rain, getting muddied all over, without any care in the world. And, the day I had first set foot on the wonder called Bombay, full of dream and aspirations! As though heaven wanted to send me a blessing, it had rained and when the first rain drop hit my face, I felt ecstatic, for, I considered it a good sign – a good beginning to wonderful things that were to come.

Memories are sometimes like quicksand. They just keep pulling you and it takes hell of an effort from your side to make your way out. They make you so easily forget the present. I was jolted back to reality when the bus screeched to a halt at a bus stop. It took me a second to realize that it wasn’t a bus stop. There was something else that had made the driver frantically apply his brakes. I pulled the glass up and craned my neck to see what was happening. I noticed a small boy from the slums had picked up two pups, and was running. He then pushed them inside his already battered home. The person in the front told me that the two pups were running playfully across the road, and as the bus made its way through, it was almost about to run over them. The little boy, thanks to his presence of mind, had just lifted the two and pushed them into his so called ‘home’. The compassionate gesture moved me deeply and I kept looking back for as long as I could see into the boy’s home, as the bus groaned and began moving forward on its journey, cutting through the rain.

Adbutha (Wonder/Curiosity)

The weather is so wonderfully pleasant that Jenny doesn’t want to stir from her couch in the balcony. ‘Come on in, Jenny,’ her dad calls out.

‘No dad, I think I am fine. The rains are going to be here any moment. I can smell it,’ she says.

And then, she hears a distant thunder.

She picks her violin that lies close to her on the tea table and begins playing a tune – slow and deep at first that somewhere in the middle begins gathering pace.

She plays ‘The rainbow of my dreams’ – something she had composed when she had been fifteen. The composition was born because she was curious. Her friends often told her it was such a beautiful sight to watch the rain and see a rainbow form.

The song reaches a new high, and is now shrill and quick – the notes almost sticking to each other, running past with a great sense of hurry, giving way to the next before culminating in a sharp, high note. When she is done, she feels relieved and so light that she thinks she is almost floating. She is surprised as much as she had been surprised the first time she had felt the rain years ago. Every time it invoked in her a beautiful sense of completeness – one she always doubted whether someone who could see the rain and the rainbow would ever feel. This definitely was different – this, what she felt.