Rainy Day musings

Raindrops keep falling on my head,
Just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed,
Nothing seems to fit…

It’s one thing to be in the midst of sweltering Delhi or parched Gaya
Where the heat is intolerant, smashing down from a hot tin sky
And the first few splatters of heavenly H-two-O cause the earth
To burst forth with that heady perfume of pure, distilled, water-vapour

It’s quite another thing to be in cool Lachung or draughty Darjeeling
And feel the cruel, icy fingers of steel run down your neck
While the one chilling icy blasts from the Himalayas pierce your eardrums
Through and through and you can hardly stand up from the pain.

So the rain is a time for jubilation in the heat-filled plains
But it’s a different story in the Alpine climes all over the world…

Have you ever seen the rain? Coming down …

In the Plains, love songs and mating songs are woven around the venal monsoons.

Elsewhere, the grey, soggy, wet weather that rots umbrellas and creates a dank smell that doesn’t seem to go away for months at a time is not a symbol of such joy.

For the people of Punjab, Delhi, the plains of India, rain is such a joyous, life-affirming event

And yet
The rainy day is somehow a time of sadness, as in this evergreen song:

Don’t look so sad, I know it’s over
But life goes on, and this old world, will keep on turning
Just let’s be glad, we have some time to spend together…
There’s no need to watch the bridges, that we’re burning
So lay your head upon my shoulder
Hold your warm and tender body, close to mine
Hear the whisper of the raindrops, falling soft across the window
And make believe you love me, one more time…..