New Delhi:
A season licensed to conjure the lazy, artsy, philosophical not to mention the straight out a Nicholas Spark s movie scene of us-monsoon. So how does this season stir a feeling of two completely different opposite sentiments-love and hate within us? Also, why is it much hated as it is loved? Well, for now we chuck the loathe for the season along with the rain and focus on the former.
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Learn to appreciate nature
We have failed to appreciate nature as urban forests peripheries nature. With monsoon every once we are however made to realise no colour, no panorama overpowers than what nature richly bestows. When the dust is settled, the leaves washed, waters replenished do we see nature come alive. An awe of appreciation made fit for nature compounds within us with the monsoon.
A cornucopia for everything art
Every streak of an artist hidden within us comes to live with the monsoon. The poet composes of the game lost in love and war, the philosopher born/awakened, the strokes, blends of the artist creates a painting he imagined he had seen once yet forgotten. And oh no perfect timer times the time the aftermath of what a monsoon can provide the photographer.
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Music speaks back
When the rain rattles through your window and the stereo is on you for once have the pitch-perfect communion with music. A sound created of strings and repercussions suited for every rivulet of emotions go hand in hand. You then and there relive the jazz era of James Brown, the orchestra where Beethoven pranged away his last symphony or the dancing feet of Elvis Presley. We never knew music was a time-machine until the rain fell and fell….
A harbinger to life
Because no plate should go discredited to every farmer who makes life live. As the rain yet flushes down and the farmers become the prophet from Zephyrus you know you will not go to bed on an empty stomach.
You never knew you were a grown-up, until…
Sprinkle awake the child outgrown! Because what greater comfort to realise the fervour of excitement a child feels every time the rain pours but in our grown-up self. You do not have to feel guilty splashing the water stored in the roof or the potholes because no greater excitement have you felt than you did when you were your younger self-monsoon made it happen yet again!
