THE RAINS have arrived. The monsoon birds are around, others are more vocal than ever. A little ride outside the city reveals nature rejuvenated to the smallest blade of grass and the countryside wearing a lush coat of green.
A couple of weeks ago, when the first showers came rather strongly, there was sheer jubilation. I saw joyful faces all around on the crowded streets of Mumbai. Traffic went chaotic but there was an inexplicable happiness in the air. Children were the first to respond spontaneously, celebrating the celestial gift with glee. Thinking of it, India celebrates nature, seasons, especially the rains, in so many ways, all of which is reflected in culture, art and everyday life. The rains have symbolised prosperity, wealth and abundance. Vedic hymns venerate the rains. Carnatic musicians associate rains with the raga Amritavarshini and the famous Muthuswamy composition Anandamritakarshini, which is supposed to have pleased the rain gods who then showered plentiful rain on a parched land. Hindustani music is rich with varieties of Malhar ragas, deeply associated with the rains. Legend says that Tansen even brought down rains to the earth with his Megh Malhar. Concerts on melodies of the monsoon are always popular these days.
The theme of rain has captured the creativity of many poets, writers and, of course, Bollywood film makers. I remember watching umpteen heroines in rain-drenched scenes, running around trees, during the weekly Sunday movie time on Doordarshan in the late seventies and early 80s. Tyagaraja, the great Carnatic composer, weaved a masterpiece called the Nauka Charitram, which revolves around the vain gopikas. As they sail down the Yamuna, a rainstorm breaks upon them, and helpless, they turn to Krishna to seek his divine help, shedding their vanity. Krishna is the eternal icon of love, he is Ghanashyama — dark hued like the dark rain bearing clouds, a beacon of the monsoon season.
When I was a child, we would receive annual calendars as gifts; these calendars had reproductions of the Ragamala paintings, depicting ragas, song and dance. When the year ended, my mother would carefully cut out the pictures and store them inside books. Each time I open an old music book, one or the other Ragamala painting greets me from within its confines. One such occasion happened not very long ago and I thus revisited one of my favourite paintings. It is Krishna immortalising music and dance in joyous abandon along with three female musicians. The sky is darkened with rain clouds, a streak of lightening is visible, and a flock of birds rushes back to the protection of the nest. Poetry, music, dance, nature and art, all seemed to be linked in one symbiotic circle.
M.F. Husain tried to capture this inexplicable ecstasy through Bhimsen Joshi’s music, filling the canvas as the notes dictated the moves of the brush. Some years ago, I experimented the same with French graffiti artistes. Initially inhibited at the outcome, I was pleasantly surprised with the success. The graffiti artistes worked away in total liberty, defining large colourful tableaux. I had sung Amritavarshini at this concert and one canvas depicted a shower of stars. Fortunately, I did not invoke the rain gods, or the concert would have been washed out, as it was in open air at the St. Xaviers College’s majestic quadrangle!
Coming back to the rains, everyone has an agenda of to-dos on a rainy day when sitting back and watching the rejuvenating downpour. I saw a list of English songs on a college website, recommended as a “must-hear” during the rains. I have my set of “rain favourites” too. One of them is the fourth song of the elegant medieval song Tiruppavai, an ode to the rain god. It describes torrential rain, deafening thunder, blinding lightning and the ensuing prosperity, all in one brilliantly elegant and poetic stanza often sung in the raga Varali which seems to personify the power of rain. Vani Jayaram’s Hindi song Bole Re Papihara in a form of Malhar is another favourite. Rains are also a season of love and romance. Radha- Krishna songs have been drenched in cool showers, cloud messengers and songs of the peacock.
I love to watch the rains from my window, bathing the world outside, draping trees and flowers with a freshness like never before. Right now, I am listening to the soft melody of the midnight rain on my window sill. When the drops touch the red earth, there is unison, there is a feeling of “mingled beyond parting” like the verses of the ancient poetry of the Kuruntokai in Tamil. Nature’s music is empowering. If only we could take time to listen to it.

Dr Vasumathi Badrinathan is an eminent Carnatic vocalist based in Mumbai. She can be contacted on vasu@vasumathi.net