Being in my senior years and with self-taught computer capabilities, I do need to know a lot more about the intricacies of social networking to make my blog easily accessible to the readers in the blogosphere. Sometimes I do feel gnawing misgivings inside, about my writing efforts, but my inner voice intervenes to bring me back on track again.
This time I’m thinking my thoughts aloud while believing strongly that I’m here to fulfill my passion for digging deep into the creative reservoir, to articulate deeply felt experiences and my love of life. My curiosity to learn however has never dampened. Rather it is becoming stronger each day. The writing habit has almost acquired a compulsive quality which has to be satisfied no matter what. Giving expression to my experiences, opinions, and concerns through my blog posts excites and energizes me. I hope to have your company on this voyage of mine, sharing its successes and its pitfalls. Your visits stimulate me to do better always and your felt presence is a part of every word I pen.
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Since I’ve spent a few summer months in the lap of beautiful Shivalik hills, I observed keenly the life around and particularly the changing hues of the rainy season. For the last couple of months, I’ve been scribbling my impressions of the place and have shared them with my blog friends: my support and intellectual sustenance. I wish to carry on as long as the creative urge to express remains kindled.
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Himachal Pradesh is no less God’s own country than Kerala. It isn’t for nothing it is called Dev Bhoomi and many commercial establishments are named after scores of deities. Here it is the female goddesses that reign supreme and their names are preferred inscriptions on the taxi cabs and private vehicles.
The rainy season has its own unique character here. From being mostly foggy, cloudy, misty and occasionally sunny, it is unpredictable like a child. Sometimes it is refreshingly breezy momentarily and at other times it is windy and chilly. Sometimes it belies all precise description. But a downpour a day is a constant feature now.
This fixture has its ramifications of wetness. It is a simple question of adaptability which is hard for summer sojourners to achieve. It enjoins to get used to the moist limpness of your clothes. Enjoy the peculiar smell of the towels which will retain water and never be crispy dry. While wiping your body after a bath, close your nostrils by some yogic practice and perform the ritual of drying yourself without giving a thought to the fact that an unpleasant odor of the bath towel has been swathed onto your body.
Try to use the wiper to dry the bathroom floor to the best of your ability, otherwise, keep the addresses of orthopedics handy in case of a slipping accident on the wet bathroom floor. Better still keep your slippers on while bathing for better balance and your slippers will get a free perfumed bath.
Enter the kitchen and find kitchen cabinets smelling and the exterior of the fridge’s door donning a black coat of mold and you run to get a rag to attack the offensive material and to your chagrin, it stealthily appears again as the air is saturated with water vapor. Bread slices get moldy in spite of your best efforts. The wafts of smell when you open your bedroom almirah is least inviting and you chide yourself for opening it too often thereby allowing moisture to lodge there.
Clothes are the worst victims of this weather. Poor things are wrung and squeezed mercilessly and spread outside much longer and their warm placement in the drawers gets derailed. Or they are kept in their soiled state packed in a hamper till the sun makes its appearance and in the meantime, their noses get clogged with the foul odors and they forget if they were any better ever.
You step out to be greeted by fungus coated stairs and your every step is focused like that of a ramp model for fear of nasty falls.
And obviously, when there is a lull in outpourings from above, you run out for a deserved breather from indoor confinement, armed with a raincoat or an umbrella; who knows you may be caught in a drizzle or a heavy shower and come home shivering, wet to your innerwear.
Once outside, you can’t help accosting the stench of rotting garbage thrown cruelly on the slopes, where our simian friends converge for their breakfast, lunch, and dinner. While you screw up your nose in disgust in the hope of escaping the decaying smell, you are careful not to attract the simians’ attention, for the safety of your skin and bones. Further ahead on the road massive landslides are occurring frequently causing traffic disruptions and blaring of horns.
However, the whimsicality of the weather has some positive aspects also.
Every morning a look through the window opens up a debate of guessing games e.g., when the rain will bid adieu or when the dense fog will lose its grip or whether the sun will be allowed a face showing like a bride. Such discussions do provide some impetus to the brain to drive away the boredom of the damp weather
These are a few hiccups of the season amidst abundant beauty of a sea of glossy greenery on mountains, hills, and knolls. Another distinguishing fact which keeps me inspired is those lulling sounds of the patter of falling rain rushing down to join the water bodies flowing in the ravines, anxious to reach its destination, to merge with rivers in the plains, completing the well laid out natural cycle.
Your comments are welcome.
Image: My Motorola clicked for me.
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