Today has dawned bright. Yesterday had been cloudy,windy and drizzly announcing that at last winter is here in the emirates. It might have rained just about 1/2500 of a centimetre but that didn't put a damper on the general euphoria. The RJs were waxing eloquent on the downward sweep of mercury and celebrating with a generous dose of 'rain' songs. No doubt it was a welcome break from the sweltering heat that is the trademark of the region, but I couldn't help sniggering when my cabbie got out of the car at the red signal to welcome each and every droplet of rain! For a person associated with the rainy seasons in Kerala and Karnataka, such curling of the lip comes as naturally as the monsoons!
Rain back home gets no media hype. People don't go out of their homes with the intention of getting wet. They'll be busy rescuing clothes from overloaded clotheslines, mending old umbrellas, keeping their fingers crossed that the power supply would not get cut or even be busy placing buckets and other vessels in strategic points to avoid being flooded inside the home! It is only in the Indian Ad world that smiling young women rush out with their young kids and splash water on them. In real life mothers yell at their kids to come indoors; who wants to pay through the nose to the local GP?
I used to dread the rainy season as a child. First of all, I couldn't handle the thunder - lightning combination. The first clap of thunder would send me screaming into the darkest room in the big house where I'd dive under the cot to hide from the terrifying flash and noise. It took a lot of guts for me to appear nonchalant during thunderstorms, once my kids were born as I did not want to trasfer my paranoia to them-- like I had kept my 'mathphobia' hidden from them till I found out that they enjoyed Math! As a young schoolgoer, I used to have mixed feelings about rainy days. Chances of an unexpected holiday made one part of me love them, but generally I dreaded them as the very idea of getting drenched on the 20 minute walk to school and sitting on the wooden benches in wet clothes was sickening.
I learnt to enjoy rainy days during the years we spent in Iraq soon after my marriage when my newly found friend Mannu would invite me to her place with a, 'Chal Vijaya, Chai peethe hai!' And we'd spend hours chatting over steaming cups of 'adhrakwali' chai and pakode. Rainy season in Iraq used to be extremely cold and wet days, with slimy, slushy paths connecting the portacabins in which we resided. Once monstrous winds ripped off the roof sheets of someone's cabin. We'd be stuck inside the box-like cabin for a day or two. Yet, those were part of good memories -- the good old days of old black and white hindi movies acoompanied by garam chai and snacks.
Back in India in the late 80's and 90's rainy season in Bhilai, Bhadravathi and Bangalore were more or less exercises on crises management rather than celebration of 'sawan ki rithu'. And who wants to celebrate when it rains and rains and rains and... for days and weeks together and patches appear on the ceiling in a myriad of shapes and sizes and a damp mouldy smell pervades. One just prays for it to stop raining though one knows that there may be water and energy crises soon.
No fear of thunderstorms in the UAE. And it takes just an hour or two of average rainfall to flood the roads and cause umpteen accidents. It is fun to watch the submerged raods and the gymanstics of pedestrians trying to cross the roads. Still, even at the lightest sign of drizzling, the heart yearns for garam chai and pakode... So, that's how we celebrated the first rain of the season, last evening!
One swallow doesn't make a summer... nor does one evening of rain, winter in Sharjah. Proof? Looking out of the window, I can see the brightness outside. But when I open the window I can feel the nip in the air. Spring may not be far behind, but winter is definitely here!
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