60 The Rains Begin
[Deshgoan, Khandwa] Unexpectedly the first rain came early this year, in the middle of June. I had taken to sleeping on the verandah of my kutir, where it was possible to catch any breeze that was blowing. Suddenly one night around 11.00pm an almighty thunderstorm broke overhead, and the rain fell in torrents, so much so indeed that I was forced to retreat inside in order to avoid a soaking. The thunder roared and the rain fell heavily all through the night, though it had slackened by the time I rose about an hour before dawn.
The rains must have fallen over a wide area that night for through the trees I could see something reflecting the moon and the stars above. It hardly seemed possible, but it was true, the river which had been but an empty trough the day before, was now full and flowing. After the downpour the extreme heat of the previous month abated, and everybody breathed a sigh of relief. The next few days it drizzled on and off, and as the cloud cover persisted and the heat returned the days became more and more muggy and humid.
It’s astonishing the difference even one good rain makes, for within a week a new green carpet was covering the orchard floor as vegetation, which had been lying dormant, sprung forth. The deciduous trees also responded to this sign, and soon fresh light green leaves adorned their branches.
The rains were also the signal for the birds that this was now the breeding season, and the trees lining the river behind my kutir became a hive of activity as a hundred or more Bay Weavers started work on their elaborate nests, and they were ceaseless in both their labour and their chatter throughout the mornings. Other birds too had domestic duties on their minds.
Day One:
leaf folded round
and sewn with skill
is lined with things
both soft and warm
Day Two:
In young teak tree
quite near to ground
two tailor birds
have set up home
Day Four:
Fledglings are there
with eyes tight shut
but mouths stare out
expectantly
Day Six:
Parents are busy
gathering food
for little ones
who know no fill
Day Eight:
Our babes have put
their red caps on;
their scrawny flesh
now decked with down
Day Ten:
I went today,
my friends had gone
but from the tree
I heard their song
So quickly grown
these tiny birds,
so soon are they
to join life’s game,
Wonders
are like our days,
they come and go,
but in the end
we may just find
these days are there
– in eternity