Welcome monsoons!

For anyone coming from a hot country, the fury of an Indian monsoon is irresistible, writes Pavan K Varma.

The other day it rained in London as it does during the monsoons in Delhi. The city was traumatised by the downpour; several lines in the Underground were closed; roads were flooded; there were huge traffic snarl ups; and next morning, Hyde Park was strewn with broken branches and leaves.

Sitting in the comfort of my home, the thunder and lightning reminded me of another home, that in Delhi. For anyone coming from a hot country, the thunder and fury of the monsoons is irresistible. Throughout the long summer the earth bakes under temperatures above 40 degrees Fahrenheit. The landscape is parched, the days are unbearable, and even the evenings hardly a respite from the oppressing heat. Then suddenly, just when everybody begins to feel they can't take it anymore, the horizon miraculously darkens. A grey-blue hush descends, and people wait with bated breath for more to happen. And then the skies finally break open.

In Delhi it doesn't rain half heartedly. The monsoons come with pomp and fanfare as is befitting a long awaited guest. A veritable torrent passionately embraces the yearning soil. Only a person made of stone can be oblivious to the smell of the earth after the first shower. Miraculously, almost over night, the landscape changes from dull brown to a green pulsating with life. Children disregard their mother's concerns and get drenched. Watching the curtain of rain outside, families sit contentedly and sip chai, and eat pakoras and freshly roasted bhuttas and succulent jamuns. It is festival time.

As a child when I read Enid Blyton, a perfect day was always described as wonderfully warm and sunny. I can understand why this is so for those on this island. For Indians a wonderful day is when the sky is over laden with clouds and there is the music of falling rain in the background. In traditional Indian poetry this is the most romantic time, when lovers crave to be with their beloved, and when the absence of a loved one pierces the heart excruciatingly.

I recall many years ago a burning afternoon in early July. I was working in my room in South Block in New Delhi when I seemed to hear the clap of thunder. Unbelievingly, I left my room to verify whether I had heard right. The first big raindrops of the first monsoon shower were falling. I returned to my room ecstatic. My Personal Assistant, Mr Bhaskar, a shy person who had never given a hint of his poetic talents, saw my excitement and sought permission to recite the following lines of the poet Bihari:
Lage saawan maas bidesh piya
More ang pe boond pare sarasi
Shath kaam ne jor kiyo sajni
Bandh toot gaye chhatiya darsi.

The rains have come, my beloved is away
A drop of rain surprised me today
The force of Kaam held full sway
The strings of my blouse gave way

The great Mirza Ghalib very wisely made an exception to his (mercifully unkept) resolve to give up wine. He says in one of his couplets that he would not drink except on a cloudy day and on moonlit nights. The inference is quite clear: who can keep such fatiguing promises when the skies are so romantically overcast!

Bharat Bhushan and Waheeda Rehman have immortalised the romance of a rain drenched night in Barsaat Ki Raat. The lines: Zindagi bhar nahin bhoolegi barsaat ki raat, ek anjaan hasina se mulaqaat ki raat, have captivated generations in the sheer magic of their imagery: a rain soaked night, a beautiful woman, the anticipation of discovery, and the pleasure of union.

I have not been in London for too long. That is why I am told I still enjoy its cloudy skies and frequent rain. There is a difference in the way it rains here. In India, when the monsoons come, the rain has many more moods. Sometimes it rains in anger; sometimes the skies weep; sometimes they open up in repentance; and sometimes, but only rarely, they take the form of a diffident drizzle. A thunderstorm in London, for all the difficulties it creates, is quite a treat!

(A Stephenian, Pavan Kumar Varma is a senior Indian diplomat and presently Minister of Culture and Director of the Nehru Centre in London. Author of several widely acclaimed books likeGhalib: the Man, the Times and the recently released Being Indian, he will be writing the column Hyde Park Corner, exclusively for HindustanTimes.com)