Every malayali worth their weight knows the most elusive signs of the monsoon; it can begin with a tantilizing breeze,a falling leaf ,a dragonfly, an overcast sky and mostly, the fecund aroma arising from earth..its pulses underfoot and engulfs the being ... monsoon is the blood which runs in a malayalis vein!
And before even the first raindrop hits the ground, umbrellas mushroom all around, skirts and mundus are hiked up with amazing alacrity..People step out of shelters and roofs and scores of beautiful black eyes turn skyward, inviting, calling..
Newspapers torn and paperboats made
Hot steaming teas and shiny green leaves
Writers sharpen their senses and pencils
Fertile and seductive the earth beckons to the sky
Its a mating dance of nature and the malayali celebrates.
And every single time, it amazes, inspires and lulls me into a wonderful cocoon of shared belonging. A special kind of bond of the most primodial kind, composed of water,life, pain and joy..Yes, all of us Keralities love our teas, midday naps, repressed yearnings and arguments for the sake of argument all presided over by a passionate shower of wet wet rain.
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