monsoon season.

5 Mar

Oh, how I yearn to live where the monsoon rains sprinkle and drown the land, where green grassy meadows and lush, rolling hills are in abundance. Where the wind sprites enjoy dancing and racing in the forest, and playing with the springy curls of young girl’s hair, instead of just sitting, gathering heat, and becoming morbidly obese couch potatoes like the people they weigh down on.

I want to see the downpour of cataracts that drown out all sound, only allowing its spectators to hear their orchestra of a million splashes, drops, and trickles.

The sky is always smoking, dark, and gray, but not a dull gray. It is the color of a thousand fires throughout the land choking out the blue sky, as if the rain-filled dark and strengthened clouds want their share of dominance in the heavens, too. Normally, a gray sky is boring, but during monsoon season, one realizes it is just another way the sky shows its life, transforming the sky into a thousand grandiose waterfalls that renew and restore the land, and the hearts of the people.

The misty rain cloaks emerald-jade foliate hills with a sheer, transparent veil, allowing one to wonder if all that lies within the rain, in the distance, really is what it seems. The smell of the first rain of the season lingers in the air, it is not of the rough, stone-and-dirt-washed petrichor, but a refreshing deep forest mist.

Monsoon season, whether it is the gray-shadowed sky, the sound of a constant pour of rain that becomes an orchestral symphony of infinite notes and possibilities, or the warm, mirthful feeling it brings to our hearts, always instills in my heart a sense of nostalgia. The gray sky takes me back to a part of me I often lose in myself, in my busy life and worries, and always brings me back to the year before, or my childhood. There is a storm of bitter-sweetness brewing in my soul, melting my heart and merging it with my mind. When I look out at the rain, I am sad and anxious, but also, in a way, refreshed and filled with a sort of subdued happiness or serene, contented peacefulness. I become drowsy, warm, and content; I can sleep without worries. Sometimes I think there is a hypnotizing (either visual or auditory or both) effect to the rains, and the rain all around you just drowns your soul and puts your mind to sleep.

The monsoon rains are short-lived and brief, in the scope and entirety of a year, but the season creates a bridge in time, connecting the fullness, vibrancy, and liveliness of summer to the first cool whispers of autumn. It is a season unto itself, a reminder of how quickly things can change, how everything has a season, how some periods in time bring us back to a secret place in ourselves and our hearts, over and over again.


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