Romancing Nature

Let the rain come down and wash away my tears

Let it fill my soul and drown my fears.

Celine Dion

The sun has set. The sky is a murky blue now, so is the sea. The only light seems to be coming from the white sands, their glow ebbing slowly with the end of the day.

I stood there, alone, all tiny and awed. The strong monsoon wind, annoyed at my defiance, tried to blow me out of its path with all its fierceness. The gushing waves seemed excited at the smell of fresh blood, ready to crush and drown and devour me for a snack. They ended at my feet, whining and gurgling before being carried away by the returning current.

On the shore, pine trees stood huddled in the dark, swinging their heads and hands and talking among themselves. They were the witches, straight out of Macbeth, hatching some sinister plot to sow seeds of uncertainty in another brave mind.

I stood there on the shore, my hands outstretched along my sides. I took a deep breath, felt the moisture-laden salty sea-breeze hitting my lungs, let my head roll backwards as much as it could and stood there, on the shore, with my eyes closed.

I was alone, I was free, I was happy.

The cold water hit my face. I was standing under the shower, getting ready for office. Was I daydreaming? Am I late? I start washing the soap off my body. I must hurry up. I can’t be late to office today again.

I look out of the bathroom window. The summer sky is now a pale blue. The aging forest has lost its fresh green to growing yellow and brown balding patches. I could see smoke curling up from a part of the forest; signs of another forest fire. Monsoon is still three months away.

Another day, another evening. I was on the beach. I was playing chase-and-catch-me with a small black dog that I had befriended on my way to the beach. A group of guys were playing cricket. Must be the four who are staying at the same guesthouse where I am putting up. I haven’t seen anyone else on this beach in the last two days. Nice shot. Can I play cricket after all these years? Should I ask them?

A stinging torrent of big, fat raindrops took me by surprise. Oh my mobile! I tried to shield my mobile from the rain by covering it with my hands. No use. The cold drops were assaulting me with all their might. The dog ran away. The other guys, too, ran for cover.

I stood there, spellbound, getting soaked to my bones. The rejuvenating raindrops washed off the dirt, the stress, the uncertainty, the pain, resurrecting the person within me.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. I was dripping wet, yet my mind was as clear as the blue sky after the rain. I was happy again, and fresh.

(Tarkarli, the white-sand beach which inspired me to write this piece, is in Konkan, about 100 km from Goa and 540 km from Mumbai. The picture above is of another, Ganpatipule, also in Maharashtra.)