Nature’s Drama..!

The greatest dramatist in our city is not William Shakespeare….. but the monsoons. The drama that is created by the onset of the monsoons is spectacular beyond any kind of scene ever seen on stage at any time, ever rolling, hiding some frantic, frenzied activity behind its stubborn exterior. And suddenly the curtain call…… as though a giant drum, marshalling some gigantic army to battle.
The whole earth shakes with the awesome sound of an imperial pronouncement. The curtains open and a dazzling white streak, zig-zags its way across the boundless sky. The sound echoes a hundred miles away, nay a thousand as the lightning dazzles other parts of a limitless space, and as though on cue the wind in all its fury, venom’s its way across a subservient earth.
No mortal stands against that windy rage which unleashed itself, not whistling, but like a banshee roaring with anticipation as it devours all that stands before its path. It roars, it screams, it cuts the watching ones into a million shreds of fear and terror. And then……. Suddenly …….. softly like the footsteps of a little child the pitter patter of a million tiny feet slowly fill the air…..first hesitant, then confident enough and soon enveloping the ears and drowning out with its incessant patter all other sounds. Even the wind and thunder seem far away as the welcome torrent reigns supreme.
The show goes on. The roar of thunder. The flash of lightning, the wailing wind and the relentless growl of an unstoppable deluge. And just when one despairs of ever the curtain being drawn, the sounds gradually fade and gently disappear. The curtain closes, and an act is over.
The morning papers, the idiot box and the announcers’ voice, reveal the second act. Buildings razed to the ground, cattle dead with swollen bellies, children with haunted eyes, staring with disbelief at washed away homes, and water…..water in the streets,……. The announcers’ dead pan voice reveal statistics of dead that could be a copy of the same list of last year and the year before and before. The grayish curtain above, again hides the satisfaction of an unleashed beast that sulks to go on a rampage once again.
For a full four months the play rages on, and finally when we beg for relief from an unrelenting drama troupe, the last act unfolds. The same thunder, the same untamed lightning, reverberate and flash their savage rebellion as they retreat to heed the curtain call. And we cry in relief that the play is over for another year. No playwright, dramatist, director or producer can ever hope to match the drama of the monsoons!
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