Splash in Puddles

"When?"

"When?"

"When?"

The villagers looked to the sky, shielding their eyes with their hands. The sun shone down fiercely. The earth beneath their bare feet was parched, cracking. Would it never rain again? Would the fields never see another crop to harvest? Would they have to leave their homeland - and if so, where would they go? They eyes were turned to the heavens, and prayers went to Lord Indra, the God of the Rain.

"Indra is angry," remarked Hasmukh, the village elder. "Our actions, either in this life or a past one, have earned his wrath. He would have us hungry, our babies and our livestock looking at us with pleading eyes."

"We have no offering to placate Lord Indra. The plants are barely alive, and they certainly do not yield beautiful flowers."

"Lord Indra, give us some rain, so we can have something to offer you!" the children cried out, in their innocence.

It was the innocent prayer that was heard. They found themselves able to gaze skyward ... the sun's fierceness was abating. Could this be coolness? The dog Jhumra, asleep on the ash-heap, awoke and wuffed in anticipation. The rooster crowed though it was long past dawn.

A shadow. What a relief, a shadow.

The darkening clouds.

Lightning. Thunder.

Water.

Water from the heavens.

Instinctively, the children joined hands and formed a circle. They danced around, canting, "Indra is great, Indra is good, Indra has sent the rain, now we have food!"

They moved in a circle and as puddles appeared at their feet, each child deliberately stepped into the puddle to splash the next child. Each was spasher and splashee - and they giggled as the cool water hit their arms and legs, and even reached their faces.

The long vigil was over. The drought was at an end. It was time to splash in puddles - time to soak a friend!!