The Monsoon Gift

The sky was deep grey with clouds that seemed to swirl and twist in every direction. The air was heavy with anticipation, and the tree stood tall, their leaves quivering in the gentle breeze.

It was the first day of June, and the monsoon was expected to arrive in the small town of Bhagalpur (Bihar). The residents have been waiting for weeks, their eyes glued to the sky, willing the rains to come.

My friend Amara who lived in a small village on the outskirts of renewal, a time when the parched earth was quenched and the plants and the regained their vibrancy.

As she walked to school that morning, Amara felt the excitement building up inside her. She had heard stories from her grandmother about the monsoon fury, about how it could bring life to a standstill, but also about its beauty, about how it could transform the landscape into a lush, green paradise.

The school was abuzz excitement as the children chattered and laughed, their eyes shining with anticipation. Amara ‘s teacher Mrs. Rao, smiled as she began the day’s lesson, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Just as they were settling down, a loud clap of thunder boomed outside, making everyone jump. The children squealed with delight as the `first drops of rain began to fall, pattering against the roof and the windows.

Amara felt a thrill run through her as she gazed out of the window watching as the rain intensified, drumming against the earth. The smell of wet soil and leaves filled the air, and she felt a deep sense of connection to the land.

As the day wore on, the rain showed no signs of letting up. The streets were flooded, and the river were swollen, but

the residents of Bhagalpur (Bihar) didn’t let that deter them. They danced and sang in the rain, laughing and splashing in the puddles.

Amara joined in, twirling and spinning in the downpour, feeling the rain wash away her worries and troubles. She felt carefree and alive, connected to the natural world in a way that she never had been before.

As the monsoon continued to rage on, Amara knew that this was just the beginning of a magical journey, one that bring her closer to the land, to her community, and to herself.

The monsoon ‘s gift was not just the rain; it was the sense of wonder, the feeling of connection, and the knowledge that life was precious and fleeting.

As Amara walked back home that evening, her feet squelching in the wet mud, she felt grateful for the monsoon, for its power to transform and renew. She knew that she would never forget this experience, this feeling of being alive and connected to the world around her. 

The monsoon had given her a gift, a gift that she would stay with her long after the rains had stopped.

Jagrity

The Cotton Candy - Photograph by Adyashree Rout