A Man of the Monsoon

CHAPTER 1

Dark clouds were gathering over the parched landscape like soldiers of a victorious army pouring over their vanquished opponents. Villagers and cattle alike were looking up the sky with glazed eyes, with expressions of unadulterated joy on their faces tinged with the fear that the rolling water-laden messiahs may turn out to be a mirage and the gods of fate may yet prolong their suffering.

Screams of agony were coming out from one of the thatch-roofed huts adjacent to the village temple. Savitri was writhing in agony clutching the sheets on her bed as if they were the last straws which were keeping her into this world. A midwife and women from the neighbourhood had formed a tight circle around her, helping her through the labour.
The sky had darkened further and a slight drizzle had started to fall.

After hours of agony and suffering, the baby’s head was now crowning out of Savitri’s body. Her screams became louder. After what seemed like an eternity, the baby finally came out. The umbilical cord was cut with a sharp, sterilized razor.
“She’s dead” someone said in a low voice. ” At least the baby is fine.”
A strange, suffocating silence filled the room. The baby was gazing out of the window, looking at the thundering clouds with big, round eyes devoid of all expression. A single teardrop had fallen out of its eyes and was sitting on its cheeks.
It was pouring outside.

“He has come with the first shower of the season. He’s Indra’s gift to us” It was the baby’s grandmother. “We’ll call him Saawan.”


CHAPTER 2

Saawan was sitting on the bank of the small river that flowed beside the village. He had no idea about its origins nor he knew whether it went on to meet the ocean or ended its journey in ignominy. His mind knew it was irrational but his heart held to the belief that if he followed the river, it would take him away from his misery into a new life. For most of his life, it had been this belief which had kept him from falling over the cliff into the depths of insanity.

How many times had he contemplated following the river? What had stopped him every time? However painful his life here, he could not leave his ailing grandmother. She was the anchor in his turbulent life, a rock which was always there to support him whenever he was in danger of being swept away. She had fed him, loved him, sang him to sleep for as long as he could remember. She had been the only family he knew since father went mad and ran away. And now when she needed him to care for her, he could not leave her to the generosity of the neighbours. And what about Kamala? He could not just abandon her.
But how much longer can he take it?

He heard a thunderclap in the distance. He knew he had very little time. Black clouds were advancing. In a couple of days, the vast and terrible army would totally engulf the dazzling, blue sky bringing joy and new hope to millions of people living in the heartland of India. But to him, it would only bring despair and a terrible, inexplicable longing, a longing as vast as the ocean which gave birth to these sentinels of the sky who were rolling with unstoppable force, and as unfathomable.

He knew that as the sky would become darker; the darkness of his heart would also increase. He knew that a curse had been laid upon him by the gods in the sky and he would have to bear the burden as long as he can. His consciousness was intertwined with that of the rain-bearing clouds. For most of the year, his mind would follow the clouds as they travel over the immense expanse of the ocean, revelling in their joy as they accept the gift of life from the blue infinity below. But as the clouds would become heavier, so would his heart.
As the monsoon clouds would pass over the land, the pain and agony would start and so would the longing to go back and greet the ocean again. As the days would roll by, his agony would increase. The pain would become unbearable on the day the first raindrops fell. He could imagine the hearts of millions of marine creatures, their joys and their hopes, falling onto the ground and breaking into smithereens. His own heart would break with them only to break again next year as the cycle repeated.

But there was hope. He would break this cycle once and for all. It may be a false belief but it was the only one he had. Kamala would take care of grandma. As for her, he was afraid she would not understand. But it had to be done. He would not go back to the village. He may not be strong enough to leave it again. It had to be done now. Before the dark clouds engulfed him, he would follow the river.


CHAPTER 3

Saawan sat by the window gazing at the silver moon which was playing hide and seek with the thickening clouds. He did not dread this spectacle any longer. The river had brought him here two years ago and since then he had settled into a steady rhythm of existence. He worked as a daily wage labourer and lived in a shack. It was not a beautiful life, but at least he had escaped the demon in his mind, a demon awakened every year by the rain-clad offspring of the ocean. It seemed that the concrete monstrosity of the city kept it calm and quiet.

It was not that the monsoon did not conquer this land; there is no place in the heartland which is outside its realm. It does rain here, but it is a sterile, lifeless rain. It is not enmeshed with souls of the living. Saawan was slowly dying here, but at least he was dying on his own terms.
There was a gentle knock on the door. He walked across the room and opened the latch. He peered outside and saw a woman standing there with her face covered by a veil. Before he could utter a word, she walked past him and entered the room. Saawan stared at the woman as if she were a ghost.

“Kamala, how did you find me?”
“Took me long enough. I have been searching for you ever since grandma died.”
Saawan was not surprised at his mind’s reaction to the news. His heart was filled with grief, but the emotion felt distant. It was as if his heart was covered in a thin but impenetrable permafrost. He had always suspected that a part of him had died the day he left his village.
Kamala was looking at him worryingly.
“Saawan, I want to be with you. I never stopped loving you. I don’t know if you feel anything for me but please let me be a part of your life, if not out of love then out of pity. ”

Saawan pressed hers lips gently, first with his finger and then with his lips. He picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. He could hear the clouds thundering outside. His gaze fell upon the open window. A slight drizzle had started to fall. He pulled his gaze back inside and looked at Kamala. The sight of her luminous face filled his heart with joy and he pulled her into a tight embrace. Under the falling drops of the first rain of the season, they became one.

Kamala woke up in the middle of the night with a start. She gazed at the blissfully sleeping face of Saawan and sensed that something was wrong. His chest was absolutely still. She pressed her ears against it. He was not breathing.
He was gazing out of the window, looking at the thundering clouds with big, round eyes devoid of all expression. A single teardrop had fallen out of his eyes and was sitting on his cheeks.

It was pouring outside.