The arrival of monsoon rains—dark clouds descending in rows making the sky look
like the color of a peacock’s feather, reverberating thunder announcing its arrival,
moist-laden cool winds gushing in, its resplendent tunes making peacocks in the
countryside welcome them with their “jubilant cries / To hail the friendly rain; / And
spreading wide their jubilant trains, / With the love play of the kiss and embrace, / They
hold their gorgeous dance parade” (RS 2.6), and suddenly, the vast sky opening up “To
deluge the earth with generous showers; / And the lisping patter of the rain / Rings sweet
to the ears of men” (RS 2.3)—though, is an annual feature in India, it appears fresh and
fragrant every year. As a vertical sheet of water descends, it rushes at an incredible
speed, as though to meet its mate—the scorched earth, and when the much-longed and
long-awaited waters ultimately descend, the mother earth swallows the first ambrosial
waters of the season with glee.
As the varsha ritu sets in, the whole universe sways in celestial joy—joy more out of
the sudden shift from the days of furious sun that was ablaze making “…The earth
oppressed with stifling heat / And enfolded in the circling dust storm / Raised by unbearable
winds” (RS 1.10) to that of the cool breeze brought in by “the moisture-laden clouds
fragrant with the blossoms of kadamba, sarja, arjuna and ketaki whom they mirthfully
shook on the way” (RS 2.17). It is perhaps “the fresh earth-scented air” brought by the
rains that evoked poets right from the adikavi (the first poet in Sanskrit) Valmiki to
Sudraka of the classical era of Sanskrit; to the medieval Telugu poet, King Sri
Krishnadevaraya; to the modern vernacular poets like Devulapalli to muse thus,
respectively: “śakyam ambaram āruhya megha sopāna pamktibhih / kutaja arjuna
mālābhih alamkartum divākaram” (VR2 3-28-4)—it is very likely to climb up the flight
of stairs of clouds to bedeck the sun with the garlands of white wild-jasmines and red
Arjuna flowers; “The clouds first darkly rise, then darkly fall, / Send forth their floods of
rain, and thunder all / Assuming postures strange and manifold, / Like men but newly blest
with wealth untold” (Mrich3 Act V-s26); “godugulu gāli kūlchi …Vidhāta raksha
vishamokkaka mātambrutumbu seyutan”—As though they had grudge against travelers,
/ Clouds made their umbrellas fly away along winds! / As they were running with a mere
stick in their hand, / The downpouring clouds drenched them completely! While they
were shivering out of cold, / Their desires for their beloveds subdued! At times, when
Gods wishes, Venom becomes nector!”4 (Amuktamalyada, Canto IV 129); “nallani
mabbulu gumpulu gumpulu / tellani kongalu bārulu bārulu”5—swarthy cloud clusters
and clusters / white-swan rows and rows. Varsha has thus been the throbbing heart of
Indian life and culture since ages. Indeed, the pleasing arrival of monsoon showers
influenced every element of our arts—painting, music and poetry—to a great extent.
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