When the grace of rain is a curse

IP Anand

Says an Urdu poet, ‘Yeh na socha ke lahu barsa hai ke barsa pani/ Log bachon ki tarha khush hein ki barsaat hui’ (Without giving a thought whether it showered blood or water, people are delighted like kids that it has rained). Sung by bards as the season for love and romance, the rainy season sets in, promising a respite from sweltering summer. People do feel elated. Hardly do they think that rains can turn deadly too.

The excitement, however, begins to wane when only after a few hours of downpour, waterlogged roads and streets, with jammed vehicles, make it an ordeal to reach our destination. Bike and scooter riders are seen pushing their machines in waist-high water through low-lying areas. A lot of mess and confusion, haste and hustle prevail all around.

Indeed, incessant rains wreak havoc. Rivers push through their banks and flow above the danger level. Bridges and barrages are breached. Fields, roads and railway track submerge in water. Thousands of houses, settlements and dwellings are wiped out. Landslides lay death traps. Hundreds of lives are lost. The homeless and helpless survivors, crammed in inflated boats carrying their belongings, being shifted to safer places is a common sight. The thrill and excitement, fun and frolic is washed away, too, and we pray for the sun and sunshine to take over soon.

Rains are a universal phenomenon. But nowhere else are rains accompanied by such a dance of death and destruction, as is witnessed in our native land. No deluge, no loss of life or collapse of buildings, no waterlogging on roads, no traffic jams, no power failure resulting from rains occur in countries like the UK or the US. 

I wonder if only rains are responsible for all the troubles we have to face. No doubt, the mighty monsoons are not only moody and maverick, but also are uncompromising and unforgiving. They move and manifest themselves in their own way. Observes Urdu poet Nida Fazli, ‘Barsaat ka badal toh deewana hai kya jaane/  Kis raah se bachna hai, kis chhat ko bhigona hai’ (The rain cloud is crazy; it does not know which rooftop to drench and which pathway to avoid).

I am reminded of Shakespeare’s line: ‘The fault (dear Brutus) is not in stars. But in ourselves....’ In view of the ruthless felling of trees, levelling of ponds, heavy construction on vulnerable spots, severe siltation of riverbeds, deficient drainage and infrastructure, lack of planning and, above all, our negligence, we need to introspect. 

Rain falls from above as grace, and cannot be reined in or tamed. To enjoy the thrill and joy, the music and magic of monsoon, we have to train ourselves to its tempers and tantrums. We have to mend our means and methods to protect and preserve, control and channelise rainwater. ‘Never wish for a lighter rain,’ advised Isaac Benjamin, ‘work hard for a better umbrella.’