Those priceless showers

Those priceless showers

‘Rain, rain go away, Come again another day. Rain, rain go away, Little Johnny wants to play.’

Remember this nursery rhyme that we would sing as children every time the Rain God was determined to play spoilsport? Who wouldn’t? Well, maybe not the present day little ones, consumed as most of them are in a more amazing virtual world!

Those were the days when as children we roamed about joyously, the world at our feet as we scrambled up cherry trees, played hide and seek in huge pipes waiting to be laid underground, dabbled at softball in the vast slopes or fished merrily in little streams.

Fast forward to the present times. With the receding water table, thanks to human greed which has encroached upon spaces for flora and fauna to the extent of their extinction, the ecological balance has been upset and the rains have failed.

If the reports gathering momentum are to be believed, it won’t be long before the city becomes uninhabitable. The city, once home to more than 200 lakes, now stares at a dismal figure which tooare in a state of deterioration.

In short, we are paying the price for our insatiable desire for a luxurious life. All those giant structures in glass and steel which have gobbled up water bodies, are struggling to supply this most precious commodity. Passing by tankers, lined up outside huge complexes, with long hoses snaking their way through the hole-drilled walls has become an everyday sight.

The debate over water crisis presently dominates the discussion of many a gathering — at home, in offices and even in street corners. And yet, there seems to be no solution in sight. Only conscientious citizenry and mass movements can save us from the predicament that is looming large before us.

But just when we had almost resigned to dry taps, bathless days and mineral water not just for drinking purposes, there was some respite. The skies opened up. The strong gusts of winds that have literally blown off roofs , accompanied by deafening thunder, streaks of lightning and the sound of the rain pattering on rooftops before it leaves to flow like rivulets down the road are a cynosure for the senses.

And the delightful scene that beholds you as you take your morning walk — tree trunks, stark brown against the glistening green leaves, tiny buds blushing sheepishly, birds twittering excitedly, colourful butterflies skimming daintily over pretty flowers and frogs croaking boldly from beneath the rocks!

Never mind the trail of destruction it has left in its wake — uprooted trees, dangling cable and telephone wires, leaves that crush juicily under your feet, slush from dug-up roads, mounds of mud that hinder the path or even the splash across your face from the muddy puddles as the cars whizz by! The monsoons have arrived, and are definitely a season to rejoice!
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