Prancing in the Rain

When we are young, there are few joys that can measure up to those that come with the onset of monsoon. Our member Mr M. K. Bhattacharya recalls his early relationship with the rain.

Growing up in Dhanbad, I have fond memories of how the monsoon changed the landscape—the colours deepened, the air smelled fresher, and meals included khichri, onion fritters, and my mother’s delicious mango pickle. When it rained, the adults ordered us to stay indoors. We would play board games such as Ludo and Snakes and Ladders—but not for long. We were always on the lookout for a chance to slip outside. Football matches in the rain usually ended with us rolling in the mud. What a delight!
The soil in Dhanbad was as hard and gravelly as it was clayey. Heavy rains would make the ponds overflow and flood our lanes. The fields would transform before our eyes. Floodwater would gush over the hard, red soil, and sometimes we’d even spot fish from the nearby ponds and streams swimming by!
Those were the times when we would make paper boats. We would tie strings to them and run around, tugging our little ships through our waterlogged neighbourhood. Of course, there was a price to pay for getting wet and playing in the muck—our mothers would scold us. But frolicking in the rain was too much fun to pass up. I always took care to step out behind my mother's back.
With age, I’ve grown more removed from the monsoon. The walls of my home now keep me safe from the weather, but they also shut out the simple joy of feeling the rain on my skin. I miss the innocence of youth. Still, I’m glad there was a time when I could revel in the beauty of the rains with total abandon.

(as narrated to Support Elders by our member)