A rainy day

RAIN , RAIN GO AWAY

COME AGAIN ANOTHER DAY

LITTLE JOHNNY WANTS TO PLAY

When it rains, these nursery rhymes written in 17th century or earlier are apt to echo in one’s mind. These simple and straight forward words represent ancient version children’s chit-chat with rain and an old pattern of their interaction with the nature. It has been raining in London these days . When you realize Londoners’ love and care for nature and how a large number trees of grows in the heart of the city even on road sides undaunted by loggers, you do not wonder why it rains here even at the height of summer season But my friend ,Isam, an Iraqi refugee living here for the last 30 years, says that God loves Britons and ipso facto they are never subjected to extreme temperature witnessed in other parts of the world.

Since I have arrived from a region notorious for scorching heat of the sun and the temperature there soars even up-to 50 degree Celsius, rain drops have a special flavour for people like me.Every one knows that in Gulf countries rain is a very rare natural phenomenon and even if it rain it lasts for a few minutes and causes road blocks and traffic accidents since the soil is not ready to absorb water. Some times it does not rain at all during the whole year and prayers are conducted in the mosques imploring God to shower His blessings on them.

Men of letters have said that rain is an incentive for creativity and for them rain is love, mercy and even death . Stories and poems have been written about rain and films have been named after this natural phenomenon.

Rain rolls me back 50 years when I used to go to sea coast accompanying my relatives during the monsoon season to “see the sea” and watch its hill like waves thrashing, splashing and roaring like lion . Children were warned not to approach the waves lest it should carry them away just as as it sometimes swallows  even the huts of poor fishermen living on the seashore. I recall how we stood on the sand close to the sea and watched with curiosity  the waves wiping out every thing on the sand including the words we wrote on the sand criticising Kadalamma or Mother sea though we were advised not to do so and incur her wrath.

What I missed in those rainy days was the scarcity of my favourite food item fish since fishermen were unable to take their boats to the turbulent sea amid breaking waves. My parents knew what fish meant to me and my late mom had once told me how her mother in law( my paternal  grandma) after appeciating  my abnormal appetite for fish, had advised her that the only solution to satiate my unusual fish eating desire was to let my sister, who was then about 5 years old, be married to a fisherman. It was a coincidence that she was later in fact married to a person engaged in fish business. I remember that when I visited their house together with one of my relatives for the first time before finalising the matrimonial alliance, we were served with rice and fish curry albeit it was too early to have dinner at that time and it was not the usual  practice to serve our guests with such a dish.

Rain reminds me of my paternal grandma whose face is still in mind though she had  passed away  50 years ago when I was around 12 . I was told that she loved me very much though I was not too young to appreciate her love but I can remember a number of incidents  to testify to her selfless love for me. Now recall that fateful night when my mom,some other relatives and neighbours gathered in her room in our old house. When I was advised by my mom not to enter the room , I could smell that something was wrong and my body began shiver. When I woke up next morning she was no more. As I could not bear her dead body being taken to the grave yard, I ran to her brother’s house from where I watched the funeral procession passing by that way.

Nearly a decade ago, my daughter showed me the photo of the grandparents of one of her class mates in her album ..Their innocent faces shining out of love are still in mental screen. “ Ask them what loves means” , this was the comment my  daughter  wrote the under the photo. Those who could live in the shade of grandparents' love are indeed blessed ones,

By the father