As I watch the rain playing gently outside the balcony accompanied by the odd wet caw from a drenched crow and a few random honks from passing cars, the lilting melody takes me back to childhood trysts.Of looking at the flash of lightening a pure zigzag of beauty, awed at the wonder of it. We were supposed to be in bed, it was already past 9pm and were as usual resisting sleep. Amma came in to admonish us and tuck us in when there was a loud clap of thunder rumbling and continuous. The zigzag flashes followed instantly. Mom pushed us towards the centre of the room hen like in her protection. I struggled out of her clasp and rushed to the mesh door to watch the heavenly drumbeats and laser shows mesmerised at the wonder of it.
When the hailstones used to beat down both bhaiya and I would rush out to the veranda as soon as Mom had her back turned, and into the garden to collect the ice lollies and back into the safety of the veranda and then eat them with abandon. Several times. Small pleasures, simple games with nature.
We used to spend most of our school vacations in Allahabad . Arid summers with the hot wind called 'loo' locally, a wind which causes severe illness and fatality and best avoided.We were warned by the elders not to out of the house at those times.The fun only began when they retired after a heavy meal in the somnambulent afternoon. Racing trough the house into the compound back into the dining room hiding as close to to the buckets of luscious mangoes, grabbing and sucking the juice out of as many as was possible despite the warnings by the adults.
The hailstorms in Allahabad were more severe, I have seen a couple of them in the winter there but remember the huge bullets of ice which would hurt if one ventured out.The sound beating against the red tiled roof sounded as ominous as thunder. The sudden blitz and the just as sudden end made us rush outside despite the shivering freezing cold.
There were two most exhilarating storms that I have seen, the Kaali and the Peeli Aandhi, black and yellow storms, but of that later, the experience can't be described in a few lines.
When I started writing this blog , Nikki had said 'Well begun' . I almost left it half done, an endeavor towards completion will be attempted.
When the hailstones used to beat down both bhaiya and I would rush out to the veranda as soon as Mom had her back turned, and into the garden to collect the ice lollies and back into the safety of the veranda and then eat them with abandon. Several times. Small pleasures, simple games with nature.
We used to spend most of our school vacations in Allahabad . Arid summers with the hot wind called 'loo' locally, a wind which causes severe illness and fatality and best avoided.We were warned by the elders not to out of the house at those times.The fun only began when they retired after a heavy meal in the somnambulent afternoon. Racing trough the house into the compound back into the dining room hiding as close to to the buckets of luscious mangoes, grabbing and sucking the juice out of as many as was possible despite the warnings by the adults.
The hailstorms in Allahabad were more severe, I have seen a couple of them in the winter there but remember the huge bullets of ice which would hurt if one ventured out.The sound beating against the red tiled roof sounded as ominous as thunder. The sudden blitz and the just as sudden end made us rush outside despite the shivering freezing cold.
There were two most exhilarating storms that I have seen, the Kaali and the Peeli Aandhi, black and yellow storms, but of that later, the experience can't be described in a few lines.
When I started writing this blog , Nikki had said 'Well begun' . I almost left it half done, an endeavor towards completion will be attempted.
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