The rain is raining all
around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.
-
Robert
Louis Stevenson
As I sit at my table in Singapore and look through the
window, what I see mirrors exactly the words of Stevenson. I was excited to
leave the biting cold of England to fly across continents to enjoy the sunshine
and I’ve been blamed for bringing the grey skies and relentless rain to this
hot island.
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| Thunderstorms in Singapore - A view from the 23rd floor |
My relationship with rain and thunderstorms is as
fundamental as my roots. I’ve been woken up as a child often to gathering dark
clouds and cracking thunder. The stormy winds, the warnings to fishermen and
the flooding of our streets are deeply etched in my memory.
Rain has fallen all
the day.
O come among the laden trees:
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of memories.
-
James Joyce
The crack of thunder and the flash of lightning fascinated
me as a child. I’ve never feared the ferocious winds that howl and growl. I
remember sitting by my window, listening
to the wind, reading a book. I remember making hot pakoras for snacks and hot
tea with cardamom and ginger for everyone at home.
Those rains were warm even though they soaked from head to
toe in a few seconds. Those rains were welcome on the parched soil, even though
they fell in big drops filling the potholes on the street.
 |
| Monsoon by Uma Krishnaswami and Jamel Akib |
Another time, I would have been eight, and it was a brutal
monsoon. The rains hadn’t stopped in days and a stray dog had given birth to
six puppies. She had taken shelter under the roof of our backyard. She was
shivering in the cold and her puppies were hungry. Normally dogs were not
allowed inside our compound. So I had to fight the elders for permission, to
let her stay. We filled a bowl full of milk and put out rice on an old plate.
And one of the new-born puppies couldn’t survive the dampness of its
surroundings. I cried for days, for a stray puppy, whose life I couldn’t help
save.
 |
| Photo: C Coxon |
These incidents in the rain always find themselves lodged in
my memory and turn up in stories. Almost 14 years ago, I wrote a story called
Afraid of Dogs – about a little girl who has to overcome her fear of dogs to
save the stray puppies. Although I should say the little girl in me is still afraid
of dogs generally. It takes me enormous effort to stay calm and friendly even
with familiar pets in friends’ homes.
But the fear of the big thunderstorms was washed away long
ago when my dad explained to me about parched land, the water under the ground
and the well in our back garden. We understood the cycle of rain and the price
of crops when my grandmother’s sister visited us from the village. I also
valued the rain after many weeks of harsh summers.
The gathering of dark clouds, the rain-bearing breeze and
the fragrance of the earth when the first drops of the thunderstorm falls on it
will always remind me of home. Scientists call this fragrance petrichor and I agree that
it is the fragrance of the fluid that runs inside the veins of gods.
 |
| Monsoon Afternoon by Kashmira Sheth & Yoshiko Jaeggi |
I feel calmer when I hear the thunder and the warm rain
doesn’t scare me, it soothes my senses and the dark clouds envelop me in a warm
cosy blanket. I would welcome the sunshine for sure. But this thunderstorm
doesn’t get me down.
Chitra Soundar writes picture books and junior fiction when
she’s not watching the rain through her window. Her next book You’re Safe With
Me (illustrated by Poonam Mistry) with Lantana Publishing tells the story of
the thunderstorm in an Indian jungle. Follow her on Twitter: @csoundar
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