Wet earth and rain and home

It is amazing how some whiff can take you back in time within a moment. Miles away from the place you are standing, months and days away in time. It is the rain and the wet earth and that smell which is doing this trick to me. I am sitting here writing this in Tucson, thousands of miles away from my home, remembering the days of rain in my home town. My balcony, that wooden swing, the rain, that fregrence of wet earth, that melodious sound of rain drops hitting the earth and bouncing on the puddles, that favourite tree of mine in front of my house, swinging back and forth to the tune of rain and lightening sounds. Mesmerising visuals being drawn in front of my eyes.



I remember how I used to enjoy the rainy days back home. The memories go as far back in time as schooling days. I remember coming back home from school in those rainy days. It used to be so much fun, walking through the small streams of running water on the roads, clasping mother's hand, walking besides her. The green trees, bathing in the pure elixir of God, the rain. And the smiles on everyone's faces, silently thanking the mother nature for her blessings.

After those memories, my mind is flooding with the days spent at my native place called Sihor. It is a beautiful place surrounded by hills. I spent most of my vacations there. This place becomes amazingly attractive during the rainy season. The river overflows. The mountains look charming. And the festive mood accompanies the weather. I remember going to those fun-fairs during those days as at this time, ther is one of our celebrated festivals called 'Janmashtami'. The fun fairs were always very alluring because of the attractive toys, food and above all, going out with the people I love most.

Then there is this celebration of breaking the 'Matki' (A pot filled with butter). This pot is hung high on the street and the youth forms a scaffold and one young boy climbs this human scaffold and breaks the pot. It holds a religious significance in Hindu mythology as the Lord Krishna performed similar rituals. My uncle's old house used to be 4 sotries high and we used to stand on the terrace and watch the whole celebrations at night. People used to throw buckets full of water on the boys to disrupt their formation but they used to persist and achieve their target. Fun, frolic, faith and joy. They used to characterize the mood of those days.

After that I remember my long drives with friends a year ago during the rains. The highway used to be flooded with water sometimes and it was a difficult drive. But it was pleasent as light drizzling and cool breeze made up the mood.

Good old days....