The harbinger of rains is romantic. The hot summer is waning out. The monsoon clouds are fast approaching. At the horizon, I can almost see them touching the seas from the sky. They seem to have reached earth in a hurry. It tells me that another year of outdoor activity is closing as the rains are closing-in.
The bright sunlit sands of the beach are a little damp with early drizzles. The warm sea winds have a spell of coolness here and there. The sky has patches and pockets of dim-lit clouds. The boys have all left the beach early...left the beach empty. Goal posts are looking lonely. The sea wind has begun to smell different: the moist sands have added their very own scent to the wind. But, once a while, the dry and the arid breeze seems to overtake the humid and the soggy. The early days of the monsoon and the last days of the summer seems to blend in a weird manner. Sure, there isn’t a competition between them. Like many things in nature, one gives way to another.
Why do people leave the beach empty when dark clouds appear in the sky? I cannot understand it. Yet, I enjoy the empty beach. The serenity of the empty beach is glorified by the noisy waves unkindly lashing the shoreline. The wind and the surf reinforce the emptiness of the sands.Suddenly in that emptiness I found three lives: a rag picker, a dog and a lonely soul. Soon I kneel on the empty sands... close my eyes to listen to the waves...and I pray for the oncoming dark clouds ...for the oncoming winds... for the oncoming rains. I pray that we pass these seasons of nature to comprehend God’s glory in our life.
Come monsoon...come soon. My land awaits your grand arrival.
Come monsoon....come soon. My heart awaits your splendid advent.